We have decided thathe real logo for the IoM should be ivy, not the 3 legs. Ivy is absolutely everywhere, covering almost every tree and building you see. The hedgerows and verges are absolutely beatutiful (especially at this time of year), but all the beautiful trees in said hedgerows are covered in ivy. And I mean “every tree” and ”covered”. It is so ubiquitous that the locals probably don´t even see it (but I will report back on that) - I may find a new role as ivy-remover of the IoM.
Back to the mundane.
Source-of-all-Island-knowledge, Tim, came up with addresses for a good place for mowers and the shop that kitted he house out. That shop more to be avoided than visited, as No.1 has definitely been fitted for style rather than functionality - but then it was a show-house. The contract forbids drilling and suchlike, but there in’t a hook in the place - nor bog-roll holders, soap holders in showers, etc. probably understandable, but a real pain to try and use. The contract also stipulates having all the carpet cleaned at the end of the tenancy, but they didn't bother before we arrived, so our new vac (supplied one was too old in the battery department) had to be emptied twice on its first full charge. Obviously the viewers wandered around in muddy shoes!
But I get ahead of myself.
We found a cafe on the main street which suits me better than G’s preferred M&S (which is full of geriatrics and children, both behind the counter and out front). Said new caff is “the Oasis” which does a mean toasted teacake and even meaner toasted bacon buttie - and a good cuppa. Not cheap (actually, nothing here is cheap) - although, when a £5 bacon buttie at midday feeds you for the whole day, I guess it has to be classified as good value!
After we had met the landlady and signed the new contract (and, more importantly, got the key) I went and paid the car insurance - which was about 80€ more than we were paying in Spain for the same car - and then we went and picked up our new steed - which is the old steed in mirror image, but RHD suits it better.
Moving across was the nightmare we had expected with three trips being required, and gratefully received assistance from barman Jack in moving the huge suitcases down the stairs. Luckily the pain of the move was ameliorated by the low amount of our “extras” on the hotel bill (Realistically, we would have stayed in the hotel for 3 months if it weren’t for TT week occupancy booked years in advance). Oh, and I forgot that we found out that the island does have an 0830 rush hour, which caught us out.
One advantage of having the signed contract was that I could go down to ManxTelecom and formally order the fibre-optic. As I had suspected (and complained about) the 4 day delay in booking the installation, actually resulted in a 10 day delay in the scheduled installation. Boy do they need a cross-departmental process resolution expert (eg, moi).
At the move point I was aadvised to photo the meters - tricky without meter door keys, but I managed. What was even trickier was trying to get the utility people to give a shit. I had been told how bad the gas people were, but reality beggared that expectation. Apparently peole couldńt get any help from the helpdesk, so started going into the office to get results - and sitting there until they got some help. The gas company´s solution to this was to shut the office totally!! A flyer posted in the doorway suggesting you go online innstead. I tried this and the website crashed under me within 5 minutes. Definitely echoes of Spain or the uk in the 60´s!
As ever in my memory, the tv licence tosswits were on the case even before we moved in, with threats of enforced visits, fines and instant death (ok, slight exaggeration). I remember this from our flat during our first expat asignment - and how I had to recoup the cost every time we went away (but you always have to lose at least one month, they dont count days on your side). All a bit annoying when no fibre to run the tv anyway.
In the garage at No. 1, we found an electric (cable, ugh9- mower, cable strimmer and 8m exptension reel. Probably all cheapest available and not what I would have chosen. All this i a garage in need of sweeping (or in G´s case, mopping).
The reason it is called a show house also quickly became obvious - no curtains or blinds, just heavy “festoon” style blinds which mean either dark or exposed - and I mean exposed - bum on display to world if unclothed anywhere but in top landing. Think that will need modification (-blinds, not bum).
One evening, we did a quick tour of the area, but found the George pub a bit young and noisy. The really good news was that we found there is a mbile chippy that parks nearby for the second half of the week, and it even does mushy peas (good stuff, but I forgot to ask for scrapings).
Oh, and horror of horrors, the washing machine wasn’t working. Actually none of the water-based devices had been plumbed-in, so G had to wait for trial wash until I had found some site plumbers to set everything up. All well until water from washer started spraying in cupboard as plumbers not up to scratch. Bucket and towel remedied that, but not tthe best start, but at least it is home.
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