Cross your fingers for me

I had my first viewing tonight; and it's lovely, and I want it! - but, of course, the landlady has other prospective tenants coming to look at the room and doesn't want to make her decision until she's met them all.  Aargh!

It's like being in a beauty contest (an activity for which I am singularly ill-qualified).  Nerve-wrackingly uncomfortable.  All one can do, of course, is be oneself and be friendly and courteous (I hope I may say they go together with me anyway), and hope for the best.

I loved the room, I love the situation and I liked the landlady.  Please let this come right for me!

It's an attic conversion in a big Edwardian house just a street away from where I am living now.  It's right at the top of my budget, but it's a big room and it has an en-suite bathroom as well.  There's a lovely garden, too, a green haven with an apple tree and roses and campanulas; and the landlady was a really pleasant, interesting, articulate woman.  We sat in the garden and drank tea and chatted about random art and gardening things.  She's friendly but doesn't want to be at the centre of my social life; but she was interesting to talk to and she makes a good cuppa.  Surely the Gods will see that I'm a good fit here!

I forgot to try the bed; can't think what got into me, I always ask if I can try the bed.  Too late now.  I'm sure it was comfortable.  This really didn't seem like the kind of place where the bed will turn out to be ancient and lumpy.  This is a comfortable lived-in family home with ornaments tucked in funny corners as you go up the staircase, and nice bits of original art hanging everywhere.  I can see myself living there.  The whole place had a good atmosphere.

And it's still within fifteen minutes' walk of work.

Please, please, let this come together!