Non-returnable deposits? It seems all's fair in love, war and property

I enquired about a flat in North London today. It was an online estate agency. I emailed an question about the lease length and a man rang me back.

"Did you know it's an online auction?" he said.

"No, I didn't," I replied, puzzled, as the property ad on Rightmove made it look like an ordinary sale.
"What do you mean, exactly?"

"We are accepting sealed bids and if yours is successful, you must pay a £3000 non-returnable deposit."

The last time I had been asked to put cash upfront was in 2001, when the property market was booming and would-be buyers were fighting each other off by making higher and higher bids. I refused to play ball, so I couldn't net a very nice house in my chosen area. Grrr.

I probed a bit. "What would happen if the survey showed up a defect and I wanted to pull out of the sale? Would I be able to get my three grand back?"

"If it showed something serious, then yes," said the man with the Mancunian accent, "but not otherwise."

So if it showed subsidence or dry rot, I could get my money back, but if it needed £4k spending on it for a new boiler or rewiring, or if I was hit by a bus and whisked off to Stoke Mandeville to be rebuilt, I would be £3k poorer.

I can see why a buyer would want to do this - especially if he or she had been let down before. I have had buyers pull out just as contracts were due to be signed. I have also (*winces*) done it myself.

When I was buying my very first property, I was just about to exchange on it when the love of my life (at the time) asked me to move in with him. With lovelight sparkling in my eyes, I airily rang the poor vendors, never putting myself in their shoes for a moment as I was so busy walking on air, and told them I was pulling out. I even told them the reason.

There was a loud gulp at the other end of the line, then a heroic, strangulated voice said, "I hope you will be very happy." I still feel guilty about that - especially as the relationship didn't work out as the boyfriend in question suddenly decided to have a sex change!

On the second occasion, everything had been chugging along with my purchase when I suddenly had a letter to say that a hysterectomy operation that had been postponed several times could take place the following week. I was so wiped out afterwards and in so much pain that I couldn't think straight. I felt much too weak to do the final pieces of paperwork and couldn't even contemplate packing up and moving, so I rang the agent and explained.

Next think I knew, the vendor was on the phone. "How dare you?" she said viciously. "I hope you get cancer and die." Yes, those were her actual words - and she was a doctor! I was shell-shocked. I could understand her being upset, but surely she could have sympathised, even a little bit? After all, when a buyer pulled out on me because her husband had had to go into hospital and was given a terminal diagnosis, I was incredibly sympathetic and even sent her flowers.

There is an expression, 'all's fair in love and war.' It should be, 'all's fair in love, war and property transactions.' I was once driven almost to a nervous breakdown when, in mid purchase, there was a communication breakdown between my solicitor and the vendor's. Mine tried for seven weeks to get answers from theirs, to no avail. Deciding - understandably, surely? - that the deal was off, I started looking at other properties.

Suddenly, I received an email from the estate agent that rivalled that doctor's remark in sheer, unmitigated viciousness. The agent accused me of being a cheat and a liar because I had 'gone behind her back and looked at other properties.'

I reeled as I read it. Not only was it slanderous, it was grossly unfair. I had only been protecting myself, trying to find a back-up in case this purchase didn't happen. Then she sent me another email telling me that if I didn't exchange the following Friday, the deal was off. This was after almost two months of not hearing anything. There was paperwork still to be completed, questions unanswered. Also, I told her, my solicitor was Jewish and didn't work on Fridays so exchange would have to be after the weekend.

A few days of silence followed, then I had another email repeating the message of the previous week: exchange on Friday or else! Not surprisingly, I said 'enough is enough' and pulled out.

On another occasion, I pulled out because my survey had revealed that softwood props had been used for the loft conversion instead of hardwood ones, and the roof was likely to cave in. Again, it was a female agent (I have since met some nice ones, thank goodness) and, just like the other one, she was incredibly nasty and said that the agency she worked would never deal with me again.

"But it wasn't my fault!" I protested. "The survey showed something serious!"

She wouldn't have it. But I had the last laugh. Three months later, I happened to walk down the street the flat was in and I saw that the house was encased in scaffolding and the roof was half-demolished. Ha-bloody-ha!

Will I be putting down a non-returnable deposit? No fecking way! And so my search continues. Does anyone have worse property luck than me? Surely the home of my dreams is out there somewhere...?