Monday, May 29, 2006

Compromis de Vente (sous compromis)

The Compromis de vente has arrived. A document counting twenty pages full of incomprehensible medieval texts. I had been working for fifty minutes translating one and a half page and then I gave up. But luckily we got Ruud, who barely speaks French, but is capable of even understanding a gopher, that took us a lot further. What it comes down to is that we are the buyers, they are the selling party and we have agreed upon an amount for the house, that's it!. All we do now is sign and finally on the internet the text "Sous compromis" will appear on the photo of our house.

With the Compromis de vente there is an additional report about an investigation by the bureau Socobois that has conducted a research as early as in February for the presence of termites and asbestos. Termites where nowhere to be seen or heard, but as I already suspected, there is more than enough asbestos (amiante) to be found: at least in a sewage pipe in the garage and the ventilation system. According to experts the asbestos doesn't have to be removed. A well but eh... what to do with something like that?

Okay, I may have the hearing of a twenty year old as turned out in a recent checkup, but to read the Compromis de Vente, I had to use a spectacle additional to my lenses. It can be the text, but I think I will consult an optician one of these days.

Two incredible tarts of sixteen at most with brown chalked faces welcomed me at the reception. Tart 1 had something like the appearance of a mouse: short, thin a pointy snout, beady black eyes and a squeaky voice. Tart 2 was rather stout with enormous boobs. She seemed to be the smartest of the two and was allowed to perform the basic eye test. "If you please look surprised into this hole, yeah right, look surprised into the other hole, grant". In my life of being a teacher I have looked surprised a lot of times, so I passed this test excellently.

Then I was allowed to pass on to the optician. And what I want to say is this: I have visited a lot of opticians over the last few months, and it has become clear to me that lens opticians are the ski teachers in bad eyes land. A modern lens optician is muscular, attends at least once a week the solarium, has shining white teeth, is no older then 35 and unmarried. And if you do not believe me, then I suggest you to visit any of those hip lens shops and pretend not to be able to read the newspaper anymore, really, Tarzan will come to the rescue, indeed for shore, and yes, even if you’re a man, you can bet the world will look completely different afterwards.

Well, of course they cannot compete with a person like Arie Boomsma of the Evangelische Omroep, beautiful, no, beautiful isn’t the word, he's a young God, he´s the incarnation of angel Gabriel and furthermore he has a tattoo of Saint Joris and the dragon on his back, yes Jesus... but ok, not like that.

Now Ruud told me that especially for male visitors there is a female optician. Ah well, as long as it are not the two tarts from the reception because then they can say goodbye to their lens contracts.

Furthermore after a few lectures from a Dutch uncle coming from my optician: "But if the lens fluid stings (what a bogus excuse) why don't you come by sooner?" I can read properly again and will have another go at the Compromis de Vente soon, so I may have something exciting to tell you next time.

posted by Ruud at 1:13 PM

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