claytoncast

So at long last, after nearly 5 months, my mother's house is sold. It's been a long uphill struggle. After an estate agent that overvalued the property, and advised us that doing a “offers above" price would work best, we've actually managed to sell it. Why anybody would offer more than the price listed on an estate agents card is beyond me. Particularly for a small  2 up 2 down terrace property just outside Rotherham! Anyway, I did manage to get a discount on the estate agents fees by challenging her that I thought the property had been put on the market at the wrong price. Actually the selling price  was rather  immaterial. All the proceeds over and above £24,000 will go to the government  to pay for my mother's care. The slow drip feed of my inheritance into the coffers of Rotherham Metropolitan Borough Council. We accepted an offer from somebody £6000 below the asking price on condition that they were a cash buyer and would move quickly. That was

 So in the week when we thought we all thought we might have  life space to fill post-Olympics, we've actually been rather busy. After the hectic day last Saturday visiting the Olympic park with Richards parents, I awoke hoarse but happy. The four hours we had spent in the Olympic Stadium had been absolutely fantastic. Watching Mo Farah win the 5000 m was one of those experiences that will stay with me for a lifetime. I was already welling up as they announced the name of the runners and  I turned to Richard's Mum and said  “I have absolutely no idea what I'll be like if he wins". He did win in considerable style and amidst a noise so deafening and filling, the like of which I've never heard. Having hugged Rich I turned to the man next to me, a perfect stranger, and he said “Brilliant wasn't it?" “Yes" I replied and then as an afterthought “and I hate sport" He laughed, and to me that's what the Olympics brought to us al

So the first week of the Olympics has been and gone, but what a week of excitement it's been. I don't watch sport. I don't do sport. I may join in and watch the final few sets of an exciting Wimbledon's men's final. I have been known to leave the country during a boring cricket match, and I quite often have to resort to locking myself in the office at home on a Sunday when the Grand Prix is on the television. This week however, the Olympics have seriously got in the way of my life. An afternoon habit has developed. Having done a good morning's work, the temptation to turn on the television around 1.30pm while having some lunch at home is almost irresistible and catch up with what we've been doing in the morning. By then it's almost time to go over to the velodrome. Unbelievably exciting, and then at the end of the week just as one thought one might get a respite on the Saturday, my whole evenings viewing of “Take Me Out" “Dr Who" and