The New Local

We went to our new local again last night, the F.

The F is a lovely traditional pub with wood beams on the ceiling, friendly staff, a beer garden and as we discovered, a quiz night on Thursdays. To reach the F. we walk down a path alongside the canal, then down a street consisting of lovely stone-clad cottages. The F has been one unexpected bonus of the new area - in the old place we never had a local so we glad to have found one here.

But here is the problem.

It isn't strictly speaking our local - there are actually three pubs closer to our home. The nearest, The W, is a dump, the sort that shows endless horse-racing - but this is in the 'wrong direction' from our home, so we don't ever need to pass it or acknowledge its existence. Walking to the F. though you have to pass the V, a nice enough place, recently done up so fancies itself as a bit of a gastropub and recommended to us by the Estate Agent which is a bit of a negative point. Then even closer to the F, is the D, which we went in once while we were househunting - there was only one other customer in who was having a rather involved conversation with the landlord about drains that they tried to involve us in.

So are we allowed to call the F our local? The walk there is very pleasant, but truth be told it is in a nicer area than the one we live in, so are we fooling ourselves? My mum certainly seemed impressed when I mentioned walks by the canal which gives a false impression as really we are still living in an urban ghetto with poor rubbish collection service (although a green recycling box has re-appeared).

Bonus

We have had a refund of £570 from the electricity company. The electricity meter was stored in a cupboard outside of the property that we didn't have a key for so we were paying based on an estimate for four years! We also got £16 back from the gas comapany and BT.

Yesterday we received a cheque for the return of our deposit - less £100. There is a dispute over whether we had the carpets professionally cleaned - we did, but the carpets were about 20 years old so there is only so much a shampoo can do. I fail to see how something described as 'worn' four years ago can be expected to be in better condition now, but that is why I'm not a letting agent.

But all in all, a nice little bonus sum.

Less excitingly, we will probably be spending a fair amount of this on blinds and curtains for our apparently freakishly large windows. They really aren't that big (we aren't living in a glass house), but there seems to be some sort of conspiracy with curtain manufacturers to drive us to despair and custom-made window hangings.

We're In!

So we've moved.

The actual move itself went briliantly, thanks to the lovely pair of removal men. I must admit, I had my doubts as to whether they were up to the job at first as they weren't exactly hulking specimens - one of them (Jari) wasn't much bigger than me, but thankfully he turned out to be a lot stronger. They were so friendly and helpful too.

The same could not be said of the man who came to clean the carpet in the old place (a term of the lease was that we had to have the carpets professionally cleaned before we left). He cancelled coming on Thursday and came on Friday instead and then had the nerve to moan that the carpet was dirty. Well, of course, it wasn't spotlessly clean, otherwise we wouldn't have hired a cleaner! Actually, it wasn't even that dirty - we had vacuumed the day before - but it isn't the newest carpet. It felt like a waste of money getting it cleaned but at least we did things properly so I'm optimistic we should get our deposit back.

The weekend was spent unpacking and arranging our things. It still feels a bit odd - we don't have a proper sofa yet so aren't really using the lounge much (we are sitting on the sofabed in the spare room which is quite nice as it overlooks the garden). It feels like we are on a strange sort of holiday but with our own furniture. This feeling was probably exaggerated by the glorious weather and the lack of internet access (although the phone works fine, there is a fault with the BT exchange so we can't get our broadband yet).

Being without the Internet is strange - until its gone, you don't realise how much you've come to depend on it. In a way I quite liked having a break from it, except when I turned up at the shopping centre on Sunday to discover everything was closed because I had no way of checking before I went out. I wasn't alone though - there were hundreds of zombie-like people wandering around the centre, not quite knowing what to do since the shops were shut and I thought about how much we are driven by unthinking consumerism. Not a pretty sight.

Packing

Packing to go on holiday might be fun but there is no joy in packing to move.

Nearly all of our worldly good are now packed in boxes, bags and any other recepticles we could lay our hands on. There are just a few niggly little bits left that we need to use in the next 20 hours.

Just like the last time, we started well - months ago we sorted out books and videos. I thought we'd left ourselves plenty of time and that this time my packing would be super-effecient and organised, so that unpacking would be easy. But we ran out of time. All of our time and energy over the last three weekends has been spent on decorating the new place so packing has become a last-minute, cram things wherever they'll fit and hope for the best affair.

The old flat now looks like a warehouse. Its not pretty. I'm convinced the removal company either won't turn up or won't be able to fit it all in their van.

Tonight, amongst the boxes, we are having our final meal there - a takeaway from a restaurant that delivers its wood-fired oven pizzas to this postcode but not our new area.

New Home Update

As predicted, we spent the whole weekend decorating and it will be more of the same next weekend. I'm exhausted but it has been quite satisfying to do the work ourselves (with a huge amount of help & direction from the OH's parents) and we starting to see real progress now.

The lounge is ready to be painted but already looks so much better now the walls are smooth and clean. And I genuinely like this room again - the high celing, the cornicing and the original fireplace (picture taken before the clean-up began - it looks better now).

I investigated the contents of the shed further yesterday. I had been a bit annoyed that the previous owner had left a lot of junk in there, but there were a couple of useful things. Here's what I found:

• 2 Directors chairs (dismantled so it took a while to realise what these were)
• 4 rolls of masking tape
• mop & bucket
• fold out dressing table mirror (the type with three parts)
• decking paint
• pair of crutches
• lawn mower

The last two items, I'm less than thrilled about - the garden is decked so a lawn mower ain't much use and I'm hoping we won't ever need the crutches.

I also met one of the neighbours - the OH's mother instigating conversation with her when we were in the garden. Silvia (probably mid 60s) who lives at 188 with her daughter - she bought her place for £1,040 40 years ago. She likes gardening but the woman next her (Scottish with a daughter) doesn't look after hers very well. She also told us where the nearest tip is, which local doctors were best and when the garden waste is collected. I suspect Silvia may be a bit of a gossip but she was friendly-enough and after 40 years, she must be a wealth of local knowledge.

Papering over the cracks

Things don't seem quite so bad now.

Friday was difficult when John Lewis were unable to get our sofabed into the flat properly. We do have a very narrow corridor but they refused to take it out of the packaging which was what was making it bulkier. The delivery men were like comedy villians - a tall thin one and a short fat one, but I wasn't laughing. It now has to be redelivered next week, dismantled and will be put together 'on-site'.

I am slightly concerned that we won't be able to have our choice of sofa for the lounge but the person we bought it off had a large sofa so it must be possible to get something in and out of there somehow. So we've paid for an access check to make sure before we order anything. But it may mean we'll be sat on deckchairs for a while.

Yesterday was better. The OH's parents came over. They didn't recoil in horror at the place but instead offered some practical advice on what to do with the walls. They then took us to Homebase and bought us a load of decorating materials and equipment, which I'm hugely grateful for. And we now have a plan of action. We are going to concentrate on doing the lounge and the bedroom before we move in and will leave the rest until after we are in. So I will have to live with a lilac corridor for now (I have an aversion to the colour lilac - too many mother-of-the-brides wear it and it suits hardly anyone). We've made a start now - cleaning the woodwork and sizing the walls (a new term to me!), and next weekend, they will return and the four of us will commence the decorating in earnest.

There are some things I'm very happy with. The kitchen and bathroom (although small) are modern, well-designed and don't need anything doing to them at all. The water pressure on the shower is fantastic. The lounge and bedroom have lovely high ceilings. What I assumed were dead plants in the garden, I've been assured by OH's mother are still very much alive and will blossom again (I have so much to learn!).

We haven't opened the champagne yet - we'll keep it on ice until we are moved in properly, but I was able to sleep last night and my enthusiasm for the 'project' has returned.

What have we done?

I feel drained and deflated. Not how I hoped I would feel.

The flat looked awful empty and its going to take a lot more decorating than we originally thought. After all of the hassle, it was an anticlimax - its not my dream home, its just a small two bedroom flat, all we could afford in west London. I've been awake all night worrying that we've made a huge mistake.

I don't think we'll be having a housewarming party or inviting anyone to stay because although it was the best place we looked at by a mile, it really isn't anything to be proud of and it will give certain people further cause for looking down their noses at us or worse the patronising as the 'poor relation' of the friends who've got rich partners & no idea of what it is like to have to work for anything.

And on top of this, the thought that this was my Dad's legacy. All of his life for so little.

A small wobble

I'm now feeling a little bit uneasy about our move. I'm very worried I won't like the flat when I see it again. Although we saw it twice and had a good look around, it was 5 months ago now and I'm struggling to remember what it looks like. I know I really liked it at the time, but I have that nagging doubt.

We still have too many belongings. My savings account is looking rather pitful.

I'm moving out of my comfort zone of the five block area that I've lived in the whole time I've been in London (except the 6 weeks in hell/Neasdon - see below). I won't know the newsagents and shop owners, and I'll have to swim in a different pool.

I think this panic has started to set in because for the last few weeks, I've been madly busy sorting out legal stuff, then I started on the practical things (removals, utility companies etc) but I've not had so much to do for the last couple of days which has given me room to worry. I've learnt from this whole process that I need to be kept occupied and have little details to worry about - it stops me from worrying about the big things, the uncontrollable things, the abstract.

Hopefully, once we are in, I can happily 'worry' about paint colours, washing machine deliveries and broadband connections and that will push away the big question mark.

Home Number 12

We have just exchanged. Apparently the seller's seller rang at 5.20 yesterday to say he still wanted to go ahead - the myssterious 'cash buyer' obviously disappeared.

Coincidentally, I read in the Metro this morning, that young people (I'm still counting myself in this) will have an average of 16 homes in there lifetime which is an increase on an average of 5 for the previous generation.

The new place will be my 12th home. I was quite shocked by how many I've had as I don't feel as if I've moved much and I lived in the same place for the first 18 years. So as an excuse for another list, these are the places I've lived

1. Family home - a large old house by the sea, that my father also grew up in. The family catering business was in the ground floor of the building so I grew up with a bizarre extended family of chefs, waitresses and van drivers. It was not a normal childhood. My mother always hated the house for its lack of privacy, but I know that if my sisters or I ever won the lottery, we would buy the house back from the present owners, The Walton (not a joke) who are professional foster parents.

2. Fifers Lane Halls of Residences in Norwich. The Dam Busters was rumoured to have been filmed theere, our block was subsiding at a rate of 1 inch per year and had a ratio of 1 shower to every 36 students. We were the last year of students to live there before it was condemned. But it had its own bar and the community spirit was great.

3. Rented house in Norwich's 'Golden Triangle', a phrase I struggle to think of without smiling. Sharing with two girls I loved, and two I couldn't stand.

4. On Campus for third year. Living with seven other people but a much better shower ratio - 8 to 2.

5. Out of the family home and into living above a pub that my mother had decided to run in a moment of menopausal madness (according to her). It was a huge pub so the living area was massive too and I ended up with a room bigger than my old one. We had a roof terrace and my mum bought Miss Ellie, our lovely dog. But I was the world's worst barmaid and the pub locals were scum, so I 'ran away' to London.

6. Awful bedsit in West London that I took in a hurry so I could take my first job in London. It was vile, but somehow I ended up staying there six months and without a television!

7. Studio - better than the previous one but not by much, about five minutes walk from the other one. I stayed there 18 months despite its proxity to a the train track and my view of a brick wall.

8. Flat share from hell with the boyfriend of a university friend in Neasdon, opposite Ikea. My friend split up with him, he went weird (left the stove on all weekend, slept in lounge sleeping bag covered in vomit while I was away) and then didn't pay the rent. The landlord threatened to come down from Leeds and slit my throat even though I had paid my share. I moved out quickly.

9. The 'United Nations' houseshare as it was nicknamed. At various points, a Canadian, an Italian, a German, and two Irish rented a house of a dodgy Greek bloke - rent to be left in the cutlery drawer every two weeks. We had to stage a 'sit-in' to get our deposit back.

10. Loft conversion with OH. The landlords, a pair of liberal Canadians lived downstairs - he was a student (and frequently spirit drinker judging by his breathe & speech in the later period), she was a writer of historical romances. There was a lot of wood panelling and it was always too warm. The floorboards were dodgy and fell through one night. 'Did you drop something on it' said the man. 'Like what? A Truck?' said the OH. They had a 'builder' who did all of their repairs - he actually wore Cowboy boots which was an accurate reflection on his building expertise

11. The current flat - located on the street between the previous one and the UN house. Its ok - I've never loved and made the brave decision of letting the OH view it alone while I was away. The people upstairs make strange noises at random times. I'll probably still cry when we move out though.

11th Hour Crisis

We were supposed to exchange contracts today. It hasn't happened.

The seller's seller had given them a deadline of 11.30 today to exchange. Apparently they have had a cash offer and were threatening to go with that if this sale didn't speed up, although our Estate Agent said people often lie about these things to get things moving faster.

So our solicitor did what she was supposed to do this morning. The seller's solicitor did what they were supposed to do. But the seller's seller's solicitor was stuck in traffic so they missed the 11.30 deadline.

The seller's seller is not answering the phone so nobody knows what he wants to do. Even though it was his side's fault.

Our Estate Agent assured me that our sale will still go ahead with our seller renting & putting her things in storage if necessary. But whether this affects the completion date remains to be seen. So our exchange is now probably going to happen tomorrow, but I'm not counting my chickens, holding my breath or any other metaphor until it happens.

What a morning

I set off 40 minutes early to allow myself plenty of time to go to the bank to transfer the deposit before work. I thought it was plenty of time, but yet again London Transport intervened. The Central Line packed up en route - annoyingly with our train stood just outside of a station for twenty minutes and the station that the problem became apparent at is one in the middle of nowhere so no use for changing. Eventually, we moved one more stop down the line and everyone was advised to get off and make other arrangements. I managed to get onto a bus to Piccadilly Circus - there were still hoardes left on the pavement.

Once on the bus, it was a rather pleasant journey. The sun was out and I enjoyed looking out of the window as it went through Notting Hill and Bayswater, then down Oxford Street. Plenty of things to look at - beautiful houses, parks and then the shops. If I hadn't been in a rush it would have been a lovely start to the day and much preferable to being stuck underground.

I managed to get to the bank eventually where I was asked a series of riddle like questions in order to prove it was my bank account which to be honest I struggled with, having no idea what my overdraft limit is as I've never asked for one, nor my credit card limit which I'm sure is something outlandish that I have no intention of using. Eventually she seemed satisfied that I was me and the deposit has been sent. The OH meanwhile was entrusted to arrange the buildings insurance which he has done without any hassles, so we have now completed 29% of the Moving list.

State of Independence

I think I may be too independent for my own good.

I've never been the type to need a boyfriend and I'm quite happy to do things on my own. Despite chronic shyness and woefully low-self esteem, I've still always been pretty independent - I never got home sick as a child or at university like many people seemed to and at 21 I moved to London, where I didn't really know anyone and lived on my own for 2 years.

My oldest friend is the opposite - outwardly very confident but cannot even go on holiday and couldn't go away to university because strange environments bring on panic attacks. However, who is better off? She has a boyfriend who does pretty much everything for her or where he doesn't his father does. All her previous boyfriends were the same. When I told her we were having troubles buying the flat, she said 'P's dad did all that for us. I don't even know how much our mortgage is'.

The current flat buying process, I have done pretty much the whole thing. I've spoken to estate agents, solicitors, banks, insurers. I've never bought a property before yet somehow its been left to me to sort out because apparently I'm 'good at this sort of thing'. Which is all very flattering but I'm a nervous wreck. I wonder if perhaps my life would have turned out better if I'd been a bit less independent and had people do things for me instead?

My friend Liz says she took charge when her & her now-husband bought a flat too but she wouldn't have had it any other way as she is self-confessed control freak and aren't I glad I'm in control? My mother says that once its all done, I should feel satisfied as I will have done it myself which is better than relying on someone else to do things for you. I know deep down that they are probably both right, but sometimes it does feel as if I've made life difficult for myself.

All systems go

After weeks of ineptitude and apathy, our seller's solcitor today faxed our solicitor to say they want to complete within the next couple of days because they are in danger of losing the place they are buying. They have shown no sense of urgency until now.

Two weeks ago, we were all worried it wasn't going to go through within our mortgage offer period (end of April) and now the ball seems to be rolling again at quite some pace. They still have to take out a Deed of Variation to correct some of the faults in the lease (its dull and complicated) but that will apparently be done between exchange and completion.

So we will now be spending the weekend pouring over paperwork. Yesterday, it felt like we might never move, and now today, it doesn't seem like much time at all as there are still so many things we need to sort out. None of it much fun.

As for the flat, I can barely remember what it looks like now and it being London, it is really just an overpriced shoebox. But it will at least be our shoebox, and it was a nicer shoebox than the other shoeboxes we looked at.

Jinxed it

I knew I shouldn't have started looking at stuff for the new flat.

I had a message from the Estate Agent this afternoon to ask what was happening. I hadn't heard from the solicitor for a while so thought I'd better give her a call before speaking to the Estate Agent.

No answer at all.

So I called the Estate Agent who told me that they hadn't been able to get in touch with the Solicitor either but had found out that she is away and there is a locum in who doesn't seem able to cope with the workload. I thought locums were something doctors had, but anyway. This is the Solicitor that the Estate Agent recommended as the best they dealt with!

I tried to find out from the Estate Agent if the sellers were in a huge rush, but she didn't know (this is not the Estate Agent we had previously been dealing with).

I'm trying not to panic and will keep trying to contact the locum to find out the current state of play.

Clutter

The flat-buying is moving along steadily – survey satisfactory (so said a text message from the lender – we’ve not actually laid eyes on the report ourselves yet) and the mortgage has been approved. I suppose the main thing that can go wrong now is for the seller to decide they don’t want to move to the country afterall, that her hernia would be best off in London (quite why the Estate Agent felt the need to tell me about her hernia, I don’t know, it is the only thing about them he has ever said).

But fingers-crossed it seems to be going fairly smoothly and I’m beginning to allow myself to think about furniture and household goods. My main concern is that we own too much ‘stuff’. Any home décor magazines or programmes seem to be aimed at people without much in the way of belongings. Nobody else seems to have 1000+ records, a million CDs (do we really need three copies of Screamadelica?) and several forests worth of books. Do other people not read or do they just use the library or throw out their books when they’ve read them? The people we are buying from did actually have a lot of stuff too but I would rather have a little less clutter.

I’m thinking I might get rid of some of the books – I hardly ever re-read books anyway, so I’m not sure why I hang on them – a hangover from doing a degree in literature I suppose and I always like having a nose at books in other people’s houses when they have them. But then the OH refuses to get rid of any of his old stuff (he could start with the Young Gods CD which I’m certain he has never listened to, then perhaps some of the copied tapes of Carter USM which are gathering dust and probably won’t play anymore).

And because he won’t throw anything out, I start to think ‘Why should I?’. Maybe I should just have clearout when he’s away and hope he doesn't notice.

One Track Mind

I have very little to write about as the flat-buying is occupying all my waking thoughts. Its actually even occupying a lot of my dreams too. So far, I've had the following dreams:

- We were buying a house off Bobby Gillespie
- We had bought a house (which was actually my Gran's real house) and were having it valued by an Estate Agent
- The couple were are buying the flat off were being very fussy about buying their next property which was holding things up and then they were exposed as being robots!

Hopefully soon things will return to normal and I'll have something else to write about.

So now the fun really begins...

Our offer was accepted on the flat. I'm fairly certain the other couples did exist (we saw one set of them) so I'm not sure why they picked us. Perhaps because I asked if the dog was included in the price? (Its not, but the oven is)

But the journey to property ownership is only just beginning. Its a long road ahead. I'm very pleased, but I'm still nervous as hell. My stomach is still all over the place (too much information I know) and I'm not sleeping well. I keep thinking in spreadsheets of expenses and budgets.

Hopefully I'll calm down soon once things start to move along. I am a worrier and control freak.

Gutted

So we viewed the flat again last night. The kitchen wasn't as small as I remembered and actually rather charming. But the Estate Agent tells us three other couples are also interested in it. This morning we make an offers, a bit below the asking price. Seller wants more. We raise to the asking price. Apparently so do the others. We can't really go any higher. So now the owner has to decide what to do. We have our finances ready go, are first time buyers and have a fairly good deposit, but I assume so do the others. So how do they decide? I guess someone will crack and offer them more and they will win.

I know the old cliches that there will be other properties and if it doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to be, but I'm very worried about whether anything else will come up - this was the only one we have seen that was even fit for human habitation.

Butterflies

I have had butterflies in my stomach all day today. I feel a fluttering of nerves as if I was going on a first date.

The cause of these nerves is the second viewing of a flat tonight.

We thought we liked it after we'd seen it on Saturday, but over the course of the day, I started to go off it. Now I can barely remember what it is like. I think the OH is pretty much sold on it already, but I think it might be because he can't face looking at any more places (he has no patience).

I'm worried that I'm might be being too fussy and if we don't go for this one, nothing else as good will come up. And while I realise that our budget won't buy a palace, I want to like the place I'm living in and putting my life savings into.

I have a list of questions to ask, about boilers, roofing and drains, wihch I probably won't understand the answers to, but have been told, I really must ask.

I've found a great little feature on my graphics package that allowed me to create the lovely butterfly picture here, which seemed quite apt today. It also does button, animals and flowers.

Estate Agent Watch

I'm boring myself with this now, so will try not to make every post about this subject. But for now, here is this week's 'progress'.

The one decent flat that I have been trying to arrange a viewing of for the last two week has now gone under offer. It was well within our budget, had all the essential rooms and a garden. But on the bright side, at least it does mean there are properties out there that are inhabitable and now my phone is filling up with Estate Agent numbers, we might get in there with the next decent one.

Have two viewings on Saturday - one is on a main road, the other one has the lounge in the loft. But I thought it would be best to see as many as possible.

According to the Porsche Driving Estate Agent (PDEA), there is a chance of a property with a conservatory coming on the market next week. I presume the conservatory will be in lieu of another room.