Before I start with the new, I thought I’d sign off with the old house. It’s been so long since we put it up for sale, and then accepted an offer, that I think I’d lost all feeling I’d ever had for it. Of course, I’ve said before, it was the house that we brought Scarlett back to (and Jude, for a mere six days), but it’s been too long.
I am not a patient person and the lack of control in house selling is driving me crazy.
Following a challenging six months with our original estate agent, we’ve cut the apron strings and moved onto another. There was some miscommunication, and we’d come to the natural end of the contracted period, so we thought we’d take the opportunity to get bumped back up the Rightmove ranks and try a slightly different market.
Everything has halted in its tracks while viewings come and viewings go as we try to sell our house.
The tiles that I’d so lovingly chosen have gone back to Homebase (after all that!), and my sneaky sofa yearnings have had to be put on hold (we have had this one for nearly seven years and I’m pretty sure I can see an outline of our bums). Continue reading
Our house is up for sale! I’m sad, nervous and excited in equal measure. It’s the house we nagged and nagged Barratts to reduce until they gave in, and it’s the house we struggled with mortgage payments for three tough years to pay until we were out of our insane fixed rate.
It’s the house we fell in love with because of the bedroom at the top with all the light. The one where we went to the showhouse six times with different groups of people before they’d even accepted an offer. It’s the kitchen project that we needed at a difficult time in our lives.
This is the house where we brought Scarlett after she was born. This was where she had her first bath. Her first bedroom. The garden was where she had her first unaided steps. Continue reading
I’ve been spending quite a lot of time on Rightmove recently. As much time as I can, given I have a toddler, work part-time, study part-time, and have pursuits outside of these things too.
It’s a bit addictive. Almost as addictive as that ridiculous Hay Day game (note to self, must check on my cotton; it takes forever to grow). Continue reading