I don't mean to be constantly whining about estate agents, I have met some really patient and helpful ones in my time - and boy, you need to be patient if dealing with me! But twice recently I have had my viewing plans foiled by agents who not only cannot answer a simple question, but seemingly can't be bothered to find out.
The question was the same in each case. It was a simple one: "Who lives upstairs?" I've explained that I have a cat and need a garden, but I also write books and need a reasonable amount of peace and quiet, so have no desire to live beneath a family with noisy kids thumping around, or teenagers playing loud computer games at 3 am.
The first time I posed the question, the agent simply didn't bother answering my email. The flat is still for sale and tempting me on the internet, but I don't want to make a two hour journey each way, only to find out that either there is a family with kids upstairs, or else the upstairs neighbour is on shift work and will be up and about just when I am trying to go to sleep. I want to live beneath a normal person or couple, who keep normal hours.
The second time I asked my all-important question was yesterday. The reply was, "A family." "Oh no," I wailed. "That's just what I don't want."
A nervous giggle sounded down the phone line. "I don't know for sure that it's a family. I was just guessing," said the idiot from the estate agency.
"What do you mean, 'guessing'? Don't you know?"
"No."
"Then please can you ask the vendor and get back to me."
What's the betting I never hear from him again?
It's as if properties in London are so easy to sell these days that the agents think they can just sit there on their backsides and wait for the perfect buyer who asks no questions at all and just plonks half a million in cash on their desk. Honestly!
I feel sure that anyone considering buying a downstairs flat would want to know who is living above them. So please, agents, find out the answer to this simple question before you start marketing the property and don't react as if I am some kind of eccentric for wanting to know!
Wednesday 11 July 2018
Wednesday 6 June 2018
Wow! A mortgage with no age restrictions
Owing to my Methuselah-like age, the only mortgage I had been offered to date was an equity release one which didn't seem like a good idea as if I wanted to move house, they exacted a penalty of anything between £12,000 and £25,000. As I am serial mover, ready to bolt at the faintest squeak of a footstep upstairs or EastEnders on too loud on next-door's telly, that seemed a punishment too far. Surely there had to be something else out there?
I popped into my bank on Monday (Barclays, since you ask) and enquired about the possibility of a mortgage. I was ushered upstairs and granted an appointment with a 'community banker' who seemed to be a Jill-of-all-trades. After hearing how much cash I had and how much I'd like to borrow, she hammered her computer, which said no. I was too old, their age limit for paying back a mortgage was 70. I am 73.
Downcast, I prepared to shamble off when she said, "I'll just go and ask one of our mortgage advisers." I sat down again.
A few minutes later she was back, beaming. "I've just been told that we have lifted our age restrictions so finding you a mortgage won't be a problem," she said. I could have hugged her.
She made me another appointment for today, when I had to take in ID (hardly necessary, I would have thought; I've only banked there for 50 years!) plus proof of my pension income. Then I was sent away to have a coffee for 15 minutes till the mortgage adviser was free.
I slipped off, got a refund on an ill-advised pair of shoes that I'd bought on Sunday, exchanged an even more ill-advised dress, that hung on me like a tepee on a tent-pole, for a long, wafty cardigan) and returned, expecting to be ushered in to see the adviser.
To my surprise. I was greeted by the same community banker - we were best buddies by now - and informed that, as I only needed a small loan to value, I had been approved for a £75,000 mortgage and could have it over 17 years.
Three cheers, hang out the flags and crack open the bubbly! And somebody hug that lovely lady for me.
I popped into my bank on Monday (Barclays, since you ask) and enquired about the possibility of a mortgage. I was ushered upstairs and granted an appointment with a 'community banker' who seemed to be a Jill-of-all-trades. After hearing how much cash I had and how much I'd like to borrow, she hammered her computer, which said no. I was too old, their age limit for paying back a mortgage was 70. I am 73.
Downcast, I prepared to shamble off when she said, "I'll just go and ask one of our mortgage advisers." I sat down again.
A few minutes later she was back, beaming. "I've just been told that we have lifted our age restrictions so finding you a mortgage won't be a problem," she said. I could have hugged her.
She made me another appointment for today, when I had to take in ID (hardly necessary, I would have thought; I've only banked there for 50 years!) plus proof of my pension income. Then I was sent away to have a coffee for 15 minutes till the mortgage adviser was free.
I slipped off, got a refund on an ill-advised pair of shoes that I'd bought on Sunday, exchanged an even more ill-advised dress, that hung on me like a tepee on a tent-pole, for a long, wafty cardigan) and returned, expecting to be ushered in to see the adviser.
To my surprise. I was greeted by the same community banker - we were best buddies by now - and informed that, as I only needed a small loan to value, I had been approved for a £75,000 mortgage and could have it over 17 years.
Three cheers, hang out the flags and crack open the bubbly! And somebody hug that lovely lady for me.
Friday 11 May 2018
PROPERTY PRICE REDUCTIONS - HURRAH!
I look at Rightmove twice a day to see if anything new has come up for sale in my preferred areas and price bracket. Over the last couple of months, that welcome word 'reduced' has started appearing more frequently.
One of the properties I had been stalking on Rightmove had the price slashed from £475,000 to £440,000 so I went to view it on Wednesday. It was on a road in London NW5 where, 20 years ago, I owned a flat on two floors with three bedrooms, two bathrooms and two roof terraces. It is probably worth over a million now.
The one I went to see was one bedroom (small), one bathroom (enormous), one living room which sounded large on the details but was small in real life as the size and shape were compromised by doors and a staircase, a small kitchen, an understairs cupboard and a garden which seemed subterranean as the fences and greenery bordering it were so high. Gloomy ivy crawled everywhere like a mountaineer with depression and wonky legs, and upstairs had a roof terrace over the bedroom.
I left with the feeling of 'how are the mighty fallen'. Why did I ever leave North London for a spot in Hillingdon three miles from the nearest station? *bangs head on computer desk*
One of the properties I had been stalking on Rightmove had the price slashed from £475,000 to £440,000 so I went to view it on Wednesday. It was on a road in London NW5 where, 20 years ago, I owned a flat on two floors with three bedrooms, two bathrooms and two roof terraces. It is probably worth over a million now.
The one I went to see was one bedroom (small), one bathroom (enormous), one living room which sounded large on the details but was small in real life as the size and shape were compromised by doors and a staircase, a small kitchen, an understairs cupboard and a garden which seemed subterranean as the fences and greenery bordering it were so high. Gloomy ivy crawled everywhere like a mountaineer with depression and wonky legs, and upstairs had a roof terrace over the bedroom.
I left with the feeling of 'how are the mighty fallen'. Why did I ever leave North London for a spot in Hillingdon three miles from the nearest station? *bangs head on computer desk*
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