Just occasionally, running what is still basically a British life from the other side of the world gets a bit complicated. There are the postal addresses to be changed, the British credit card bill still to be paid - and, like today, the flat to be dealt with.
We rented out our London flat for the two years we are over here, to a very nice couple of about our age who seem to be happy living there. We've got a nice handyman on speed dial who has a set of keys and comes round to fix things when they need fixing, and on the whole it all works well.
Except for today, when it transpires that my father has received (and paid) a bill for something that I know nothing about. He is the on the ground manager of these affairs, you see, and the bills get sent to him and he keeps me posted. So at the moment, he's trying to find whatever it is he's paid, and I'm gearing myself for a long and complicated telephone battle, to be conducted by Skype over the next few days with whoever it is who is mucking us around.
Of course, it might be a perfectly legit bill that needed to be paid and is all fine. But I have a feeling it's not going to be. Sigh. Whoever said living abroad would be easy?
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