After going for my first serious property viewing, I thought it must have been fate that threw me into the hands of this particular estate agent because she told me about a house that they were about to take on that I might be interested in.
When I discovered it was just three houses down from where we live, I jumped at the chance and told her we definitely wanted to see it. Trouble was, the owners were away on holiday and no matter how keen we were, there was nothing the agent could do. But I am nothing if not tenacious, so just to be sure the agent wasn’t mistaken, I popped a note through the door of said house explaining our plight and how much we would appreciate it if we could take a look round and be given first refusal. Of course I knocked on the door, be churlish not to, but of course there was no reply.
So we waited, impatiently.
But a week later the owners returned and a couple of days later we were shown round. Funny thing is, the agent hadn’t even been round up to that point, so I’m guessing they were hoping for a quick and easy sale that wouldn’t even involve a ‘For Sale’ board.
The house was dated, probably a good 25 years since it had anything done to it, but that didn’t daunt us, we wanted something we could mould into shape. The loft was big enough for a conversion which meant we could add the extra space by going up rather than out. The garden was a reasonable size too. It all looked very promising. I would have been happy to make an offer there and then but my OH wasn’t quite so keen and wanted to sleep on it.
So we returned for a second look and this time made an offer. Of course it wasn’t accepted but we met in the middle and agreed on a price.
It’s a weird feeling, when you’ve lived in rented houses for so long, you forget what house buying is all about, I can just about remember the excitement I felt when we used to buy houses 18+ years ago, but it’s a different emotion now, instead of the thrill, the excitement of what the future might hold, wondering if you will stay there or move up the property ladder; I felt relief.
Relief that we wouldn’t have the ever likely possibility that the owner would turn up one day and tell us they wanted to sell the house so we had to get out, or the letting agent turning up every three months to do a property inspection, or having to accept a poorly equipped bathroom and a kitchen that was put together with leftovers from some other property.
But I could start putting all that behind me now, we had seen a house we liked, we had agreed a price, all we needed now was the final mortgage approval and to jump through the hoops of the East Devon District Council under their Section 157 that restricts who can buy ex local authority houses.
Nothing we couldn’t handle.