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A short survival guide to purchasing a house

A short survival guide to purchasing a house

Everyone was quite misty eyed and whimsical when I mentioned buying property. Coos of ‘it’ll be the best thing you ever do’ were followed by affirming chants of ‘best way to look after your future’ and I headed into the process thinking it would be the defining moment of my 30th year.

Sadly, nobody bothered to hit home with the harsh realities of property purchasing. So, to help those of you out there thinking about undertaking this somewhat barbaric right of passage; a survival guide:

1. You will walk into the process with your faith in humankind intact. You will walk out with the belief that everyone you’ve ever met is a liar and that every email you send from here on in will come with the price tag of one thousand pounds.

2. Be prepared to unlock pockets of rage, from the darkest depths of your soul and unleash them on men called Rory Pemberton-Pencildick, the 22 year-old estate agent who bathes in Tom Ford aftershave and talks to you about Brexit whilst wandering around properties in just his socks like he wasn’t born 15 minutes ago.

3. Be mindful that you’ll tell Rory exactly what you’re looking for. Three bedrooms, small garden, near a station. He will ignore you and take you to either a) extortionately priced studio flats above funeral parlours or b) 6 bedroom mansions with swimming pools claiming they’re at the ‘top end’ of your budget when they are, in fact, four times it.

You’ll grow tired of Rory, and will find your property yourself using that thing called the internet, you will be shown round by the seller as they too will have made a burning effigy of Rory.

Rory, however, will still get paid enough to drive a better car than you.

3. You’ll spend 10 years of your earnings after spending 10 minutes inside the place you’ll begin to call your ‘forever home’. Some people may deem this kind of behaviour rash in normal circumstances, in property buying that amount of time will be met with a helpful ‘you snooze, you loose’.

4. You’ll have extertensital dread about whether your new shower will be as good as your current one. This will keep you awake for at least three nights.

5. Like me in 2012, nobody will want to commit to anything. To dates, to exchanging, to using your life savings to buy the thing you’ve instructed them to.

6. Bulk buy valium. If for nothing else than to keep your relationship going during the ‘You said YOU were going to call the solicitor’ Tuesday night tear ups, which by the way you will forget all about when it comes to buying furniture. That’s when the divorces really kick in, halfway between Ikea Marketplace and D Fucking S.

7. You’ll get little to no notice or control about your moving date. You’ll have to perform logistical gymnastics and try and convince your boss to give you time off on about 3 hours notice.

8. You’ll have visions of turning up to your new home with men in brown overalls, opening a van of lovely new furniture and appropriately named boxes to place into your beautiful new space. In reality, you won’t be able to get the door open for at least an hour, you won’t have had time to buy packing tape, let alone got round to measure up for furniture.

Your life possessions will be shoved into Aldi Bags for Life and you’ll spend the first 6-8 weeks sitting on some camping chairs underneath a bare light bulb wondering what all this mortgage fuss was about.

9. Everyone will say ‘oh it’s awful isn’t it’ and in your head you’ll curse them for not telling you that IN THE FIRST PLACE.

September

September