Well, we put in a second offer to buy "our" house. We spent a few hours with our lawyer and drafted a new agreement, same as the old but with one nasty difference: more wonga, spondoolics, dosh, green beer vouchers, dough, lolly, bread, moolah or just plain cold hard cash.
First let me tell you we are not rich, never have been and have no master plan (short of robbing a bank..hmmm there's an idea for me to talk to half-pie about). What we did have when we arrived was some reasonable savings. Mrs R and I worked hard for 10 years in London - I worked long hours, traveled a lot and got paid well for 12 hour days and sweating blood. We had fun, some great holidays, a nice placid life. It all changed when Ms R was born (two weeks after 911). This little bundle blew us away and after the rush rush rush of the last years we both stopped dead in our tracks.
Mrs R's subtle hints to bring her home to NZ got less subtle in the weeks after (that is if you call "Take me home cockstrap" subtle. So I quit, we sold up and were in sunny Nelson within 6 months.
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