I put my flat on the market today. After six years of living in a one-bedroom flat, and two years of working in it too, it is time to trade up.
I had intended to move this time last year and found the flat of my dreams and a buyer for my place. Unfortunately I was gazumped by a rival buyer two weeks before Christmas and left heartbroken and with a £2,000 bill from my solicitor. Property, I decided, was like boyfriends: sometimes after losing one you were really keen on it’s impossible to get right back out there again and you need to get your head straight first. So, distraught, I spent the money I saved for moving house backpacking round Australia.
Now I’m ready to put myself out there again but have decided I need to be more ruthless and less emotional this time. Last time I made the mistake of not insisting the seller take the flat off the market when he accepted my offer even though I’d set my heart on it. This time I will be making no such errors.
The good news is that since last year’s aborted move, my South London flat has increased in value by about £20,000, although comparatively this makes no real difference as all the two-bedroom flats have gone up in price too. I have signed up with the same estate agent I was selling through last time – they found me a purchaser in a week – and am looking forward to a gaggle of keen buyers traipsing through the door.
Doing the maths
Today I spoke to my mortgage broker at Savills Private Finance. Being self-employed I don’t quite have the pick of the market, but there are a good few options open to me. Having £100,000 of equity on my current flat is good and means I will only have to borrow about 50 per cent of the value of my new property. My broker recommends a two-year fix at 4.89 per cent with Northern Rock. It means my payment will be about £580 a month, £200 more than it currently is. Can I really afford this?
The search begins
I went to look at a few flats today in my chosen area of South London. The first backed on to Crystal Palace Park and looked stunning from the outside, complete with a massive stained-glass window looking out on to the street – one of the most desirable roads in my chosen area. But inside it was a different story. Despite being immaculately decorated and with stripped wooden floors, it was just too small. The kitchen and living room are open-planned, the estate agent explained to me – code, I realised, for there wasn’t enough room for a kitchen so it’s in the lounge. The main bedroom was big enough, but the second – which I plan to use as my office – was tiny.
And so I moved on to property two. And property three. And property four. All had their good points – good location, immaculately decorated, good price etc. But they all had their deal-breakers too – too small, too high up, in the wrong place, in need of too much work. In a moment of madness I go and see a newly-built duplex £50,000 over my limit which, of course, is perfect – the George Clooney of flats – but, like gorgeous George, totally out of my (price) league.
My first potential buyer
The estate agent brought the first viewer to my flat today. Ben was a first-time buyer and had clearly done his research, judging by the number of questions he asked. After some standard questions about the service charge and the lease he looked at the kitchen: Is it new? he asked. I was immensely flattered – the kitchen is 20 years old, but I painted the cupboards purple in a bid to liven it up a bit, and it looks like my plan worked.
Is this the one?
I was getting quite disillusioned with my flat-search and starting to question whether you can get more than a scruffy shoebox in South London for £200,000 these days but my faith is restored when I see Headley Court – a purpose-built flat in one of the nicest roads in Sydenham. It’s neutrally decorated and for a change the second bedroom can actually accommodate a bed, rather than just looking like a cupboard. It’s pretty great actually but I don’t feel I’ve seen enough flats to make a decision and vow to keep looking.
Later a girl comes to look at my flat. She seems interested, stays quite a long time and asks a lot of questions, so I am really hopeful. I suggest she checks out the communal garden and car park round the back of the building when she leaves. But when I watch her from the window she doesn’t look at the garden but power walks in the opposite direction and doesn’t look back. It is the flat-selling equivalent of your date escaping through the pub toilet window.
The dump of all dumps and the palace of all palaces
Against my better judgement I go and see a flat I have seen no pictures of but one of the numerous estate agents I have signed up with convinces me I should see it straight away. It’s a complete state. There’s an inch gap between the bottom of the front door and the floor and it goes downhill from there. The flat is currently occupied by tenants who seemed hell-bent on making the property as unsellable as possible; one is sitting watching TV in his pants while another has gone out and locked his bedroom door, meaning I can’t see the room, and the whole place is a tip. It’s like being on a bad blind date -you know in the first five seconds it’s not going to go anywhere but you feel obliged to stay for a quick drink and make polite conversation.
Next up is a top-floor apartment in Wakefield Court where, coincidentally, a friend of mine used to live so I know its nice inside. Its perfect, in fact, and boasts a massive lounge with a great floor. I am thinking of putting an offer in until the estate agent tells me the vendor wont accept it unless I have a committed buyer and that he has five cash buyers to show round tomorrow. I leave before I get too attached.
Find out how Emma’s search is progressing in the December issue of What Mortgage.
