Finally I am about to regain my sanity, life, humour if not bank balance. The call came this afternoon to say that we have exchanged on my daughter's flat. It's only taken six months to get to this position. During this time we have employed the following

underhand tactics (putting letters through the owner's door pleading with him to sell to us)

Smiling (when we thought it was all going smoothly in the beginning)

Smugness (when we were still under the illusion of the above)

nervousness (as we realised that things weren't quite as watertight as we had first thought)

Resignation (the realisation that the first target date had passed)

Horror (as the second/third/and fourth deadlines passed)

Anger (as we threatened to pull out alltogether, didn't they want to sell their flats, can't anyone make up their minds?)

Suicidal tendancies (when yet again the goalposts moved another three weeks for completion.

That was yesterday... this is today. We've exchanged and Hayley has a flat.

I think I'll have a lie down now