I halted my house search in 2020 and only started looking again this year, when there seemed to be more properties on the market and it felt safe to go and view them. But, oh woe, I soon discovered that the only sort of mortgage I can obtain now is an equity release one, due to my enormous age, which is a couple of years older than King Charles 111.
Three weeks ago, I viewed a lovely end terrace cottage but found that, sadly, it was no longer a case of getting a swift mortgage offer from a building society. Oh no. I had to go through an equity release broker and it took so long for them to locate a loan and go through all the paperwork that the house was under offer by the time it was all done. I am at my wits' end. Short of a lottery win or a doting late ex-boyfriend deciding to leave me a legacy in his will, my next home is likely to be one with 'care' in the name.
I actually looked at a couple of retirement flats, but the problem is in the word 'flat'. A) there are mighty service charges, and b) I couldn't add a conservatory or a loft conversion. And where would my piano and my 36 boxes of books go?
Miracle, I need you!
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