After a short pause another man took me upstairs to a broad office, the center of which was occupied by yet another great dining table, loaded with bundles of paper documents tied in pink ribbon.
One of the partners met at the top of the stair, and immediately displayed that Dickensian courtesy of which one hears but seldom meets. He was a great old Scot of seventy who treated me like a grand nephew. On learning that I wished to offer for the property in Well Court, he asked the name of my lawyer. He was adamant that it would be most improper for his law firm to act for both seller and buyer. He politely pointed out that there were at least fifty reputable law firms within a hundred meters of his office. It would have been improper to propose one of them.
Before we parted, he asked just how I proposed to find the funds to buy the property. Aa I had just been to cash my Ernie Bonds at the General Post Office in Waterloo Place, I was able to plonk a bundle of notes on his table. The old lawyer got quite agitated when it was revealed that this young client had cycled down Princess Street with £600 in loose notes in a jacket pocket. Looking at his pocket watch, the kindly lawyer said: “There’s a Bank of Scotland at the corner of the street. You have just time to get there and deposit that cash. Your bona fides have been established. Now you must find a good lawyer to put forward your offer.”
I am the new owner of 39 Well Court.