Monday
To Holborn to value a Grade II listed five – storey
Georgian house, one of only two private houses in the
road, the owners of which were trying to decide whether
to sell, or rent it. It was a real gem, meticulously restored
with the advice of English Heritage. Modern wiring had
been installed while the room paneling was away being
restored and everything was remote controlled. They’d
thought of everything, even specially built shelves for
magnums in the wine cellar.
On to Fitzrovia to introduce a prospective tenant to
the landlord of a funky £295-a-week first-floor
studio flat to let. Although a corporate banker with
impeccable references, he had to pass the landlord’s
tenant personality test. If Alf, the landlord’s
red setter, didn’t like someone, there was no
deal. Luckily banker and setter got on so the tenancy
agreement was signed.
Tuesday
Up early to visit my favourite flat in Islington, via
the seedy fleshpots of King’s Cross. Once through
a set of huge gates, you are in the secure, portered
oasis of Ice Wharf, overlooking Battlebridge Boat Basin.
The £1,200 a week second-floor loft space in the
original warehouse has floor-to-ceiling windows and
wood and slate floors: perfect for a company photo shoot.
Wednesday
The owners of the Holborn house have decided to sell
through another agent at a price of £3.5 million.
Could the day get worse? Yes: at lunchtime a fax arrived
from an overseas landlord saying he had decided to sell
a two bedroom flat near Baker Street that we have a
family poised to move into on Friday. The couple and
their two children were at that very moment shopping
for bunk beds for the kids. With less than 48 hours
to salvage the situation, I rang the family with the
bad news. The father was furious and his wife was in
tears, but I promised them I would find them another
suitable flat near the children’s school. By 8pm
I had managed to find a selection of possible properties,
so phoned them to plan our tour for tomorrow morning.
Thursday
At 8.30am we viewed the first of four garden flats around
Baker Street. Not even an estate agent’s famed
hyperbole could describe it as light and airy. Their
faces looked grim. The second wasn’t much better.
Third time lucky: a two-bedroom flat in Chalbert Street
with a small private patio and direct access into communal
gardens. There was no time for deliberation. They decided
go for it. Now we need the green light from the landlord.
Friday
An anxious wait until 10am when the landlord called
to say that he was happy to accept the tenants and their
existing references. We organized a professional clean
and an inventory check-in and arranged to meet at 5.30pm
to sign the lease and hand over the keys.
I relaxed too soon. Took a call from another landlord
who was unhappy about signing a lease with a diplomat.
In theory, he said, this chap could declare diplomatic
immunity at any point, leaving him with all sorts of
problems. As the diplomat and his wife are due to move
in later this morning, this last-minute hiccup required
immediate action. After frantic calls to the embassy
and our company solicitors we confirmed that according
to the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations 1961
a diplomat must abide by the laws of the receiving state
for any personal matter. And just to doubly reassure
our landlord, we managed to bike round a letter confirming
that the individual would renounce all diplomatic immunities
with regard to this tenancy.
Happy families all round and a well-deserved pint for
me.
Alex Koch de Gooreynd is the
Manager at John D Wood & Co., West End lettings office
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