The interest in the house was slow and Cape Town had become a buyers market, probably due to the apprehension surrounding the  ANC presidential elections in December, and the uncertainty it could bring to the country. We had informed the estate agents that we would not be putting our house on show in October, as it was one of the rare occasions  all of my side of the family were getting together and there would be  11 people staying at the house, so it wouldn’t be at it’s most presentable. The agent did however do a couple of viewings, and oddly enough it was one of them that brought our buyers. I think the whole atmosphere of a fun lived in house with lots of people was actually the selling point.

Over the next week there was some haggling over the price of the house, and then the agent came to meet us in person discuss a final offer they had received from the prospective buyers. It was a Friday at 5pm, and the offer would expire in an hour. It was a beautiful warm sunny evening, the house was full of laughter, people in the pool, kids playing board games, wine cracked open…we asked the agent for a few minutes to discuss this final offer.  Myself and Becky went out into the garden, looked at each other and the tears came. This really was it. Reality had just smashed us in the face. A plethora of emotions and memories flooded my mind. This was OUR house OUR home. What the hell were we doing? Some deep breathing was required. We pulled ourselves together and assessed the offer. It was close enough to our asking price, the timing was good and ultimately this is what we wanted, to sell up, and go on this amazing journey. Cue more deep breathing…and then we agreed ….we’d tell the agent ‘yes’.  We sat down to sign the papers and my heart was racing and my hand clammy holding the pen. I was just about to sign when my phone rang and an english mobile number appeared on the screen. In a situation like this I normally would not have taken it, but something made me answer. It was my mate Bruce from Cape Town, calling from England where he was on business. He told me that someone wanted to speak to me regarding the Arsenal Supporters Club in Cape Town. My mind was swimming so much I didn’t even think how bizarre that was, and then he handed the phone over to Ian Wright…..THE Ian Wright, my childhood hero (and incidentally a friend of Bruce’s); Arsenal’s second highest ever talisman. A player I had idolised growing up on the North Bank of Arsenal’s old Highbury stadium.

I went out into the garden and spoke to Wrighty for about 5 minutes about the demise of Arsenal and all that was wrong with the club, and about our fears for the upcoming North London Derby. It was probably one of the most surreal moments of my life…. signing away my family home and then getting a call from my childhood hero!

In a daze I wandered back into the house where the estate agent and Becky were waiting for me. Becky asked if everything was o.k. and who was on the phone. I grinned inanely, nodded, picked up the pen and sold our house.