The Visit.

The land agent is due to come here tomorrow to conduct a property survey (whatever one of those is) and I’m at a loss to know how to handle it. The fact is, you see, that all previous agents on this estate have been male, 6ft 2 or over, and possessed of a superior attitude just to let you know that everyone has their place and yours is one step up from the pigsty. I always supposed it was the old role of the land agents as bully boys for the landed gentry still holding sway in the rural backwaters of the English countryside, and my part in all proceedings with them was to fight my corner from a position at least two steps above the pigsty.

 

But the current one doesn’t fit the picture. I encountered her in passing one day and was surprised to see that she was not only female, but also young, blonde, of average female dimensions, and fresh out of university and surveyor school (or wherever they go to learn their time-honoured speciality.) So how am I to approach her? I thought of trying the following method:

 

But maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea since I’ve learned that presuming on a stranger’s sense of humour can be dangerous, and land agents have ways of making life difficult for you if you give them cause to want to. I suppose I’ll have to play it by ear. Maybe that fabled capacity for charm which a few people once told me I had still has a little charge left in the old battery. Or maybe I should play the cute little old man role and mutter the occasional ‘yes miss’ and ‘no miss’ as circumstances demand. Then again, I could always try offering a few little anecdotes like the black dog leaping out of the wall at me, and things being moved around in the kitchen without my intervention, and seeing blue lights hovering above the hedge when I was burning my Beltane fire one year. Maybe she would back out of the house as fast as her flat professional shoes would shuffle and save us all the trouble.

In the event I expect I’ll just be me. While I hold that role playing is fundamental to the prosecution of human life, I’m not actually very good at playing manufactured ones. If you hear never more of me, pray for my soul.