Sebastian Gibson is still waiting to seal a ’40m deal, but maybe it'll close tomorrow…
‘I know all there is to know about the Crying Game,’ this song from Neil Jordan’s ‘Crying Game’ film has been playing in my head; taking me back to the time that I was smuggled in (being underage) to see the film in the cinema.
I often take songs and adapt them to my particular circumstances – in this case Boy George’s 1992 hit has been lyrically changed by me to ‘I know all there is to know about the Waiting Game.’ For that is what I’ve been playing on all fronts of my life… the waiting game. And it’s driving me to distraction.
Whoever came up with ‘patience is a virtue’ and expressions such as ‘slowly slowly catchee monkey,’ is no friend of mine. I don’t see the virtue of it and despite always having considered myself a relatively laid back sort, the impatience that I’m experiencing is augmenting to ever increasing bouts of irritation.
We’ve had a cash asking price offer on the ‘mega house’ for four months now – it’s £40m, which is no meagre sum. The potential buyers have proved patient beyond the realms of reasonable behaviour. Each week an answer is promised – even if it is to be a ‘no’ I’d be relieved at this stage – and finally yesterday the definitive ‘yeah’ or ‘nay’ was to be delivered.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that it wasn’t forthcoming; and again the answer is promised for today. Yawn. Another deal has been ongoing for a similar length of time and this has come without even an offer being made.
Architects have been flown in from various outreaches of the globe, the principals have visited three times (always inconveniently – a Sunday at 8am as they were en-route to Biggin Hill and their awaiting private jet) and each time we’ve been promised an offer will follow. The most recent visit was two weeks ago and we were promised an offer within 48 hours. Silence reigns.
And then we have our European buyers who are procrastinating over their plans for London visits given the reports of the horrendous weather we’ve been suffering. Now that spring has sprung I’m hoping our Romans and Sicilians will descend upon South Kensington with Italian flair and we can find them the perfect pied-a-terres. I’m positively encouraging them, in fact, as London comes into bloom.
In my personal life I’m practising patience too, which could be why my tolerance level has reached saturation point. I suppose it’s not just the waiting that’s frustrating, it’s the impotence you feel.
I like to feel that we’re in charge of our own destiny – or at least we can have a good shot at being in charge. But when our potential destiny is wrapped up with someone else, you’re rather dependent on them being desirous of taking the same path. I’m just hoping that on all fronts patience will prove a virtue and I’ll be duly rewarded for my exemplary behaviour.