
So – we fly back to the UK a couple of days later (after more 3am moments for us both and an intense soul-searching discussion over a very long lunch at Pier One, Port St Charles on the west coast – highly recommended btw) – to begin working out how we’re going to do this. We need a lawyer. We need a surveyor. We need a bank account, insurer, renewables adviser, planning specialist…we need help! Fortunately the extended family/friends network on both sides of the Atlantic leaps into action and we are inundated with excellent recommendations – thanks guys. So a great start – and then we hit the buffers with our own bank. We’ve been loyal and solvent customers for over 40 years, but when we tried to transfer deposit funds to ‘Bim’ (another nickname for the island) they treated us like Marty and Wendy Byrde from the Netflix series ‘Ozark’ – for those who haven’t had the chance to enjoy that, they’re a respectable professional couple who get drawn into high-stakes international money laundering. Worth checking out. Err…where was I? Well, to cut an epic saga short, it took several hours on the phone and in person at two separate bank branches to finally convince them that we weren’t perpetrating a massive fraud and that this amazing property really does exist. Not only that, but in the meantime we were blocked from accessing all banking facilities and denied access to our own money. By the time all this is resolved the pound has plunged against the dollar, meaning we have to find more cash. So much for loyalty and honesty. The complaint is pending…and in the meantime we’re learning a thing or two about how the international money markets work. Stressful – but first world problems.
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