NS April 13th, 2007

We began looking to buy our first place a couple months ago. First, it started out as a search for a 3-bedroom house in the ‘burbs, somewhere where our family would have room to grow. After realising that this just wasn’t going to happen on our budget, in one of the most expensive housing markets in the world, we downshifted to 2-bed houses or ground floor flats with a garden. Even that was proving difficult to find. I was getting so frustrated and felt hopeless that we would ever find a place we loved. I even started another blog to bitch about it so I wouldn’t have to bore you with all the details.

As you can see from the most recent entry on that blog, we had found a place a we love a couple days ago. Paul had arranged an appointment to see this 2-bed house in an area not far from here (but further into the city — zone 4) and I met him after work with the babe to view it. It was barely a 5-minute walk from the station and shops and there was a nursery and a playground on the same street as the house. So far so good. The outside of the house was nice — flanked by a pink house on the left and a blue house on the right, its beige tones were subtle and a nice break in the bright colours. The estate agent who met us there told us that the house is over 100 years old, a Victorian period cottage. That sparked my interest immensely: I looove Victorian era stuff and like a house with a bit of character. We walked inside and within 2 minutes of being there, I knew. It was the house for us. Arched doorways, beautiful wooden floors, little nooks and inset windows, a large kitchen with a door leading out to a nice little garden, a huge bathroom and very nice bedrooms. I was sold.

Paul and I started whispering offers while the agent went to let the next round of viewers in and we decided to go in at £2k under the asking price. We got the agent outside for a chat and told him we were really interested. We were told that another couple had made an offer an hour before for the full asking price so we’d have to match that to be considered. We agreed and told him we’d fax over our formal offer in the morning. We left on a cloud, elated and nervous. I began imagining myself living there, raising my daughter, writing out in the garden, cooking meals in the fabulous kitchen, taking nice long baths in the huge bathroom and just generally being happy. I wanted that house.

We faxed and emailed over our formal offer, throwing in an extra £1,000 to show we were really serious. We were told a decision would be made by the end of the day. I had butterflies in my stomach, alternating between excitement and dread, all afternoon as I waited to hear something. At about 4pm, I got a call from the agent. Even though ours was the highest offer made that day, the owner had decided to let it remain on the market over the weekend and do more viewings to see if he could get more for it. Greedy bugger! I mean, I understand his point of view — his place just went on the market the day before and had had three offers at or above the asking price already. When the agency told prospective buyers who phoned that day that it was under offer, they started going to the property itself and knocking on the door, asking to see it! So the owner wants to leave it on for a few more days and see what happens. That means we have a slim-to-none chance of remaining in the running. If people were desperate enough to go knock on the door, I’m sure they won’t have a problem offering a few grand more than the asking price. Sighhhhh.

Our only hope is that whoever makes a higher offer than us this weekend is in a chain and hasn’t sold their house yet or don’t have their mortgage sorted out already. We do and that does go in our favour, but money talks. If these owners are seduced more by the appeal of an extra few thousand as opposed to sealing the deal immediately with solid buyers, I’m sure they’ll take the risk and wait it out to squeeze a few more pounds out of it. We shall see. But it doesn’t look good.

They say when you buy your first house that you’ll almost inevitably lose one you had your heart set on. I know that and I know I should just move on and accept that this happens, but it’s hard to let go when we were so close. It’s a lesson in house hunting but it’s also a lesson in heartache — don’t let it sting too long. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going. I’ll just have to keep believing.

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