strawberrri.diaryland.com
Wednesday
2016-11-23 | 8:31 p.m.

The process of trying to buy a house. I'm finding my emotions follow this sort of semblance:

Extreme anger that houses cost so much.

This place I'm viewing is a shit tip. I've only seen the inside of the porch but I already know I want to leave ASAP. Won't be putting an offer in. OBVIOUSLY.

WHY IS THIS NICE HOUSE ON RIGHTMOVE SO MANY TENS OF THOUSANDS MORE THAN WE CAN AFFORD.

Me, visiting a property that's in probate: "I love this psychedelic purple bedroom!" *Does poor attempt at 70s disco dance including much finger pointing*
Ollie: "Um.. you DO know this is a dead person's bedroom, right?"

Consider discounting Billericay - too expensive.

Find a lovely Billericay house.

Find a house in Benfleet that's bigger and 20k cheaper. Much as I had happy visions of the Billericay street looking beautiful covered in snow and me sighing in awe from a window that actually has grass outside it ... decide to go with Benfleet.

Offer in. Rejected.

Second offer rejected.

Third offer rejected.

Meet in the middle between asking price and our first offer (we didn't shave a lot off the price tbh).

Now the survey has come back saying nearly 9 grand of work to be done. Not made particularly clear if it's urgent? "Not insulating the loft may cause timber rot". I don't know if we are meant to ask the sellers to reduce this from the price or we suck it up and do the repairs ourselves over time.

This is why I am drinking wine on a Wednesday. Oh fuck that excuse. I drink wine EVERY Wednesday, an excuse to or not.



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