I’m being a grown-up. I’m buying a house. Well, I say a house, it’ll be a flat. And I say buying, but I’m really just attempting to buy. The bank has offered us a mortgage, we have a bit of a deposit saved up, and we’ve been searching for a few weeks and you know what? It’s fucking awful. The London property market is just ridiculous. And it’s making looking for a flat ridiculous too. I hate it.
Here’s why:
Estate Agents
It’s an age-old complaint, I know. And before I became a would-be-buyer, I always thought estate agents were given a rough ride. And I thought that, when it came to buying a house and handing them hundreds of thousands of pounds – they’d be clambering over each other to help us.
No.
They’re twats. And worse – useless twats. Because me and the fella have to work all week, we only really have Saturdays to look at flats. I imagine a lot of people a in a similar position. This seems to come as a surprise to estate agents who run a skeleton staff at the weekend. We’ve stood in estate agent’s offices in a queue of ten couples waiting for someone to take our details. We WANT to give you money. That’s why we’re here. Please help us give it to you.
When we weren’t queuing, we’d find ourselves talking to someone from lettings – “All the sales guys are out at the moment, but I can take your details.” Really? The sales guys are busy in one of the biggest, fastest growing, expensive property markets in the world? Hire more staff.
And then when there is someone to see you, 90% of the time – this no exaggeration – you get to sit down and speak to someone who only works on Saturday. Now, good for them – they might have another job in the week, be a single parent or whatever, but they know fuck all about the property they’re selling. In fact, the property market is moving so quickly that they often don’t have any clue what properties are available. One of them actually just went onto their Prime Location page. We can fucking do that ourselves! You don’t hire a plumber and expect themto Google “how to fix a tap”, you useless fart.
But the worst – the worst – example of Saturday Shittiness was the wide boy sales manager who actually said, “I’ll just pass you over to my Saturday girl.” like it was the fucking 50s! Awesome. So then we get sat opposite said girl, whose Superdrug nail extensions were so long, it stopped her from being able to use a keyboard properly. She misspelled both our names, TWICE. And with no capital letters. And couldn’t work out how to write an email address. And asked how many 7s my phone number had. How many? Like, at the beginning of the number? In total? What?
Open Days
Not once in the last few weeks have me and the husband had a private viewing of a property. Every single one has been an “Open Day”. For the first one, I was under the mistaken impression that “day” meant “all day”. It doesn’t. It means “an hour, tops.” And in that open hour do you know how many people see these flat? Five? Ten? Nah. 60. 60 couples, all rolling their eyes at each other as they look at a pokey one bed in Crystal Palace, with one estate agent in their baggy Next suit rubbing their grubby hands with glee. They don’t have time to answer questions about the flat -and you know why? Because they don’t give a shit. Someone’ll buy the fucking thing no matter how grim / expensive it is.
Grim Flats
Speaking of the grim = expensive equation. Most flats we’ve seen are gross. I realise I don’t have a million pounds to spend, but even with the relatively small budget we have, it’s still a few hundred thousand pounds. If you want someone to spend a quarter of a million on something, the least you could do is tidy the place up. We saw a flat in Forest Hill not too long ago that was in a shared, purpose built block. “Purpose built” is code for ex-Council, by the way. Through the main door for he building an incredible smell hit us in the face like a spicy wet sock. “Maybe it’s the neighbours,” I thought. Then we walked in the house and a solitary Airwick candle was stuttering in the corner, trying desperately to find some clean oxygen to burn amidst the food smell. It was so overwhelming, despite only being in the flat for three minutes, our clothes still stank when we got home five hours later.
One flat had been refurbished. But they’d apparently done it on a budget of about £40. They’d put carpet in the bathroom. They’d put up a dirty lampshade. They’d just painted over damp. There was a three inch gap between the kitchen worktop and the wall. They wanted £300,000 for it.
Another, we didn’t actually have the priveledge of seeing in real life, although I deeply regret that. From the outside – I believe it’s called ‘kerb appeal’ – it looked alright. Inside it was… filthy. Oh, and the washing machine was in the bathroom, next to a mountain bike and the fridge-freezer. Yes. The fridge-freezer. “I’m just going to get some fish fingers and milk out of the bathroom.”
One flat we did see was so, so small, that you could sit in the lounge and reach in to the kitchen and bathroom from the couch. Handy if you need to brew up while pooing and watching telly. Even the estate agent smiled and “small, isn’t ti?” No shit, lady. So why is it so fucking expensive?
Up-and-coming areas
When we started looking we had a very clear idea of where we wanted to live. Crystal Palace or Forest Hill. We know the areas, we like the areas. There’s the right balance of smug independent coffee shops and farmers markets. That’s where we want to live. But then the area recommendations started. Not just from estate agents, but from everyone.
“Have you tried Catford?” “Norwood Junction has great travel links.” “Beckenham is just down the road from Crystal Palace!” “What about Penge?”
What about Penge? I don’t even know where it is? Catford, we tried, but no. You might be up and coming, but I’d rather you’d upped and come. Beckenham might just be “down the road” from Crystal Palace, but it’s a really long road, and even my parents would be bored in Beckenham. I’m not quite ready to retire…
Oh, and Norwood Junction train station might be the handiest station on earth, but Norwood Junction? Wow. (Apologies if you live there. Not for slagging it off, but I’m genuinely sorry.)
“Up-and-coming” just means “dump”. I don’t want to live in a dump. Despite, as one estate agent told us as she tried to force us to see a flat that looked like it was in downtown Syria, “you’ll live to regret it!” Yes, threatening us will help sell property.
Sealed bids
You see a flat you like. Not love, mind, just like. It is on at “Offers In Excess Of…” because we now operate in the Scottish property market, apparently. You spend ages agonising over how much to bid. You think you’ve offered too much – way more than it’s worth. And then you convince yourself that you’ve got it. You start decorating in your mind. Then you start feeling awful that you’ve outbid everyone by tens of thousands and the estate agents are laughing at you. You don’t get it. Someone bid more than you. You never found out how much. You convince yourself it was a matter of pence. You wish you’d bid more.
Property Websites
Primelocation and RightMove are the best and the worst when you’re house-hunting. Looking to see what’s on the market? Go online. See something nice? Contact the agent. Going to see a flat? Send your mum a link to the details so she can see it too. The internet has changed our lives! We’re living in the future!
Only none of the flats you see are available. They haven’t been available for years. They’re there as bait. You call up the agent, “Hi, I would like to see the gorgeous two-bed new build you have advertised on Nice Looking Street.” “I’m sorry, that flat is no longer available, but we do have this corrugated tin hovel on Stab Needle Alley that’s on at twice the price?”
And the worst thing about these website? When you get bored of looking at one-beds in London, you see what’s available in the rest of the country. Edinburgh? A three bed maisonette in the City Centre. Leeds? A two bed house. Blackpool? The Tower ballroom. It’s fucking depressing.
But, despite all this, and the fact that we’re more than likely in the middle of a property bubble and whatever we buy now will decrease in value over the next couple of years, we’re still looking. Seeing a place tomorrow morning, in fact. It looks nice in the details. The estate agent says they’ve already received offers on it, so we’re trying to work out how much over the asking price we should bid… Balls.
littledrinker 