As we proceeded through August (our moving day was to be September 1st, as removal companies do not normally work on Sundays), the silence from the landlady and her family was deafening. Through the mediation of our solicitor, it was agreed (apparently - more about this later) that we would vacate the property by 17.00 on Monday 1st September. Our brilliant removal men would arrive at 08.00 to begin the move, our super cat lady would arrive in the middle of the day to transport Holly and Jaz to avoid stressing them. Ann and Oscar would be at the new house (I would drop them off at 07.00), a Cypriot friend would arrive at 08.30 to take all our accumulated pots and plants from Argaka to the new house. The final piece of the jigsaw was a lovely guy who had done electrical work and other jobs for us would go to the new house and make both sets of gates “Oscar-proof” with chicken wire we had purchased. He would then come back to Argaka and remove about 60 metres of chain-link fence we had had fitted, and which was now surplus to requirements. This was a gift from us to him.
All well-organised and budgeted for. And then, on the previous Sunday morning I received a telephone call from an unknown number. The caller informed me she was our landlady’s niece (visiting from Australia), and was a lawyer. She then proceeded to inform me that another “inspection” was required before we departed so that the landlady could decide whether to release our deposit. As it had only been four weeks since the last “inspection” I could not see the reason for this. The tone was threatening and “legal redress” would be sought if we refused her demands. Incredibly she offered to “inspect” the property herself and did not quite understand when I asked her what she would compare things with. Had she inspected the property before? No. Had there been a photographic record made twelve years ago? No. Was there an inventory? No. A totally pointless exercise.
More calls to the solicitor who advised us not to agree to an inspection or meeting of any sort. Once again he acted as an intermediary (in whose interest?). Finally an agreement was made. Property to be vacated by 17.00 on Monday 1st September, and our man would remove the chain-link fence and our internet company would remove the wi-fi antenna from the roof. The electricity and water bills would be settled, and community charge payments brought up to date. All the things good, long-standing tenants would do as a matter of course.
All signed, sealed and delivered you would assume. Oh no, dear reader. Let me outline the events of Monday 1st September.
The day started well. Ann, Oscar and I drove to the new house and I left them there to await the removal men. A phone call alerted me to the fact they were running late due to roadworks on the Paphos - Polis road. At 08.30 they arrived and three more cheerful and obliging blokes it was difficult to imagine. Conversations were had and they began their task. Our Cypriot friend arrived a little later and one of the removal men gave him a hand with the heavier pots.
Before leaving for the new house we chatted briefly about our landlady problems. Tellingly he said that the village was not the same since her husband’s death. A cryptic and very appropriate comment, as it turned out. The removal proceeded at pace and I telephoned the cat lady. About half an hour later the removal men headed off to the new house and she arrived. The cats were ensconced in the en-suite bathroom and it took only a few minutes to “entice and encourage” them into their cat transports.
I was just saying goodbye to her, and paying her for her expert services, when another car drove down the track. Out of the car came the landlady, almost at a run. Wild-eyed and seemingly manic, she shouted that this was her property and she was coming in now. I pointed out that 17.00 was the agreed time. No response but she lunged at me (our cat lady said she thought she was about to assault me). Another woman appeared and this was the Australian “lawyer”.
Like a whirling dervish the landlady went from room to room screaming at the top of her voice. I asked the Australian what was happening. No response. Then a telephone call was made by the landlady to the man I assumed was our lawyer (conflict of interest) who the Australian advised me had told the landlady I should vacate the property immediately.
At this point I thought “sod it”. I had photographed the electricity and water meters, and made a video of the inside of the house and the garden. No more to be done. I drove off, only pausing to switch the electricity off at the end of the road. And then to the electricity shop to request disconnection of service. I had kept Ann informed of all of this, and she was understandably concerned for my welfare.
Once I arrived at the new house, I settled down to a cold beer or two. The worst was over, and that was that. Oh no, dear reader. The events progressed apace. In the early afternoon we received a call from the guy who was removing the fence for us. Despite bearing a document from us that gave him permission to remove the fence, the landlady had come out and accused him of stealing her property. She then called the police. Our man was detained, leaving us to try and sort matters out. The police wanted proof that the fence was ours (we had paid cash and had no receipt). Phone calls to the guy from the garden centre who had done to the work and to the lawyer (who denied to Ann that he had told the landlady I should vacate the property immediately (Who to believe? Conflict of interest?).
The final nail in the coffin was that our man messaged us and told us an “Amicable Solution” had been reached and he was allowed to take half the fencing. Amicable! I don’t think so. The landlady ended up with €375 of our fencing. Ye Gods!Our blood boils with the memory.
Local readers who know us, and the house, and the personalities concerned , will be astonished. The house will no doubt be on the rental market. Interested parties would be advised to proceed with the utmost caution if they want to deal with a venal, mendacious and greedy family who would not know the truth if it bit them where the sun doesn’t shine.
The good news is that we are living in the most beautiful house in friendly and agreeable surroundings, and are very happy. It’s been a month and the scars run deep. But we got through it and, in my view, good triumphed over evil.
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