One of the things that wasn't ideal about the house was the bathroom / shower room. We think that when the house was built the bathroom and toilet would have been two seperate rooms. What past owners had done was squeeze a sink and a loo and an airing cupboard / hot water tank in the bathroom and closed off the entrance to the toilet from the landing added a shower and made it into an en-suite shower room with access from the back bedroom. It was all a little dated and I was not fond of the idea of Lewis having an en-suite in his room. The bathroom habits of little boys are questionable at the best of times and that coupled with the thought of taps left running ... and floods, set alarm bells off in my mind.
The reality was that the bathroom would be a big expense to renovate and I'd just have to put up with it until we'd saved enough money to sort it out. Besides, there were other priorities. The boiler that controlled the heating as was on its last legs. Each time we turned on the heating and heard it groan & shudder into action we wondered if it were its last dying breaths. Not to mention when we moved in we had to buy a fridge, a freezer, a washing machine, a dishwasher and a tumble dryer because those things were already installed in our rented house so we'd never had to buy them.
Anyway.
ENTER my 'friend', Water Pressure.
We'd shipped the kids up to Nanny & Gaggans for the move (thanks Mum!) so they'd be out of the way and we could live like students (late nights, take-aways, not much studying, that kind of thing) whilst we did some immediate work, like getting our bedroom re-plastered and painted and general unpacking (I thought so long as I have a nice place to sleep at the end of the day, a little sanctuary, if you like, then I can deal with the rest). So our first days in the house went as follows, getting up and dressed, doing decorating and unpacking and then showers in the evening to clean up.
Everything was fine .... no??
Fast forward to my return to work, alarm went off at 7am, got in the shower ....... the water was FREEZING!! After a couple of basic checks ... have I switched the power on to the (electric) shower??, check, have the power swtiches tripped in the night???, nope, I realised I didn't have time for all this drama so settled for a quick bath before going to work. Martins called me later on in the morning to tell me the shower was working jsut fine, plenty warm enough and I must have been doing it wrong. Seriously??!!
When I got home I checked the shower and it was fine. <Shrug> and I jumped in a showered.
The next morning FREEZING!! And so it continued. I reorganised my hygiene routine to have my hot shower just before I went to bed and got up and dressed in the morning. This was not ideal but doable in the winter but as my thoughts drifted to the summer, hot nights and my inability to stand under a cold shower I wondered how we'd get through to summer and if anyone would be able to stand downwind of us pongy people come April.
We decided to start early on the bathroom with the money we'd saved so far and a credit card for the rest.
The next big spanner in the works was my kidney surgery and my refusal to convalesce in a building site, it did however, give me 4 weeks to peruse bathroom brochures and scour magazines for ideas.
This is the thing. I thought bathroom shopping would be fun. It was HORRIBLE!!
To explain my dilemma, I'll take you back to my childhood. Cue the end of the summer holiday and I was staying in Cardiff with my Aunt & Uncle and cousins. We made the usual pilgrimage into Cardiff central on the train. Aunty Kathy was with us because I think we might have been a little too young to go by ourselves or some items of school uniform were required. On my shopping list was a pencil case and some supplies for school. I remember seeing one I liked in WH Smith and then touring around other stationery stores in Cardiff to see what else was on offer before finally deciding that the one in WH Smith was "the One" and going back to buy it. Now this seemed perfectly fine and quite sensible to me ... you know checking out your options before committing. When I heard Aunty Kathy on the phone to my mum that evening she said "and so we traipsed around every single shop that could possible sell a pencil case before going back to buy the one she saw in the first shop".
Now if I was like that as a child buying a pencil case you can imagine what I was like as an adult buying an ENTIRE bathroom. We'd scoured, B&Q and Wickes and The Bathstore and there was nothing that I was 100% sure about. The guy that was doing our bathroom suggest a plumbing merchant, so off we went to City Plumbing and came out with about 50 brochures from the various manufacturers. There was too much choice and it was so overwhelming, I liked elements of different styles. There were things I had to buy that I didn't know existed, like shower valves and diverters. Things I had to consider, like which taps were suitable for which water pressure.
I kept putting off the job, because the thought of choosing all the stuff we needed left me panicky. Mum told me I'd given myself too much choice and I should just limit myself to one brochure or store but I couldn't do that knowing that I might find the perfect tap in the next brochure (as it happened I did find the perfect taps, an the whole bathroom designed centered around those!).
Over the course of the next 12 weeks, and many planning meetings with Grant (the plumber) and Martins (who just walked out because he didn't want to debate which shower heads went with what taps and where the lights would go any further) we agreed the budget, the layout, all the items that needed ordering, the logistics and the timing.
The plan was that the bathroom would take about 2-3 weeks to complete and on Saturday 10th March, Grant turned up with a sledgehammer and a shed load of materials and said "Are you ready for this??, its going to be messy"
1102ShirleyRoad
I dream of being a Domestic Godess ... the reality is that I'm not very creative, I'm rubbish at cooking and young(ish) children and a husband who lives for sport means that I'm unlikely to grace the pages of Ideal Home anytime soon.
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon
I spend a lot of time reading interiors magazines (some may say too much time), and of course, scouring pinterest for great home and lifestyle ideas (again, lost hours on pinterest, its like it has its own time zone, 10 minutes on pinterest equals 5 hours in the real world) and I'm always on the quest for the 'perfect home' and so it's sometimes difficult for me to sit back and relax and enjoy what I do have and just stop wishing for what I don't.
I heard this week of another friend, however tenuous the link, another someone I know, someone my age, a Mum, diagnosed with breast cancer. So this weekend I decided I would take her advice and "spend it with people that matter, ditch any chores and just have fun!!." I had a great day in the park yesterday with a friend, catching up whilst we had a picnic watching our kids play together. The plan was to join a larger picnic organised by my British Military Fitness gang for a couple of hours but it was such a great day we stretched it out until 8pm.
The forecast for today (Sunday) was fantastic, hot sun and not a cloud in the sky. This could be the kind of day I'd fantasised about when we first visited this house. I did however, have some (interiors) errands to run (I'm a woman on a 'perfect home' mission, c'mon!!) but I got up early to do this whilst everyone here was still in their morning stupor.
My mission was to get in, collect my order and get out and enjoy the day with my family. I was outside Next Home before the doors opened (they were late opening, by the way, not my fault) to collect my order and only got temporarily sidetracked into 'children's bedrooms' (fitted sheets for Lewis's bed, I somehow managed to give away all his bedding to the Bag2School charity when I was sure I'd put in it the "keep" pile, there is only so long you can wash and dry bedding in a day before it gets tired and just plain boring really), and 'homewares' (you can never had enough mugs, I have a dream that one day all my mugs in the cupboard match or co-ordinate, but I suspect that will only happen when I'm really REALLY grown up) and 'garden & outdoor' (well obviously I need a matching table runner to the seat cushions I was picking up in my order). It was a very determined person (me) who walked back to the car, which of course was parked outside John Lewis (I was taking back the 'rejected' bathroom blind), with a garden parasol under my arm, a box containing 6 seat cushions, a dressing table mirror with drawers for Layla's room and a bag with the sheets, table runner, mugs etc.
I loaded up the car, returned the blind to John Lewis and was on my way home.
Martins fixed the parasol and I set out the seat cushions on the chairs. I'd 'ummed and aaahed' over whether to go for a 'vintage' look with a cream parasol or a splash of bright summer colour.
The summer brights won out.
(as it turns out the table runner will have to go back, I didn't think about the hole and the parasol in the middle of the table .... if only I knew someone good with a sewing machine ... <clears throat>!)
After that I put on a pair of shorts, and settled into the deck chair (thanks Gran) and chilled out with what really matters.
I heard this week of another friend, however tenuous the link, another someone I know, someone my age, a Mum, diagnosed with breast cancer. So this weekend I decided I would take her advice and "spend it with people that matter, ditch any chores and just have fun!!." I had a great day in the park yesterday with a friend, catching up whilst we had a picnic watching our kids play together. The plan was to join a larger picnic organised by my British Military Fitness gang for a couple of hours but it was such a great day we stretched it out until 8pm.
The forecast for today (Sunday) was fantastic, hot sun and not a cloud in the sky. This could be the kind of day I'd fantasised about when we first visited this house. I did however, have some (interiors) errands to run (I'm a woman on a 'perfect home' mission, c'mon!!) but I got up early to do this whilst everyone here was still in their morning stupor.
My mission was to get in, collect my order and get out and enjoy the day with my family. I was outside Next Home before the doors opened (they were late opening, by the way, not my fault) to collect my order and only got temporarily sidetracked into 'children's bedrooms' (fitted sheets for Lewis's bed, I somehow managed to give away all his bedding to the Bag2School charity when I was sure I'd put in it the "keep" pile, there is only so long you can wash and dry bedding in a day before it gets tired and just plain boring really), and 'homewares' (you can never had enough mugs, I have a dream that one day all my mugs in the cupboard match or co-ordinate, but I suspect that will only happen when I'm really REALLY grown up) and 'garden & outdoor' (well obviously I need a matching table runner to the seat cushions I was picking up in my order). It was a very determined person (me) who walked back to the car, which of course was parked outside John Lewis (I was taking back the 'rejected' bathroom blind), with a garden parasol under my arm, a box containing 6 seat cushions, a dressing table mirror with drawers for Layla's room and a bag with the sheets, table runner, mugs etc.
I loaded up the car, returned the blind to John Lewis and was on my way home.
Martins fixed the parasol and I set out the seat cushions on the chairs. I'd 'ummed and aaahed' over whether to go for a 'vintage' look with a cream parasol or a splash of bright summer colour.
The summer brights won out.
(as it turns out the table runner will have to go back, I didn't think about the hole and the parasol in the middle of the table .... if only I knew someone good with a sewing machine ... <clears throat>!)
After that I put on a pair of shorts, and settled into the deck chair (thanks Gran) and chilled out with what really matters.
#lovingthisday
Monday, 21 May 2012
Classic Georgian Townhouses
A bit of a detour from our house but this is a picture I took last week whilst escaping the office for a coffee.
I took this snap whilst walking along Cartwright Gardens
I love the architecture and the uniformity of the buildings. It also really reminds of the scene in the 1968 version of Oliver where the flower seller starts her "who will buy my sweet red roses" song (despite learning that the street doesn't exist in London, or anywhere else in the UK for that matter, it was built on a sound stage at Shepperton Studios #anotherchildhoodclassicruined).
The town houses on Cartwright Gardens are grade II listed building and I learned that even the hanging baskets have to be approved and identically hung! I love listed buildings and think that they should be protected but I'm not sure I'd like the restrictions of living in one.
One of my favourite (loser-sneeze) pass-times when I've got a few minutes to spare is checking out property websites such as Zoopla and Mouseprice which record data from the Land Registry office, so you can get to see how much properties sold for in a particular area (great tool when negotiating house prices, great in general for nosey parkers like me). Properties don't come up for sale very often in Cartwright Gardens but the most recent, a 1-bedroom flat sold for a whopping £1.1million in April.
Maybe its just me but I'm feeling very underwhelmed.
I took this snap whilst walking along Cartwright Gardens
I love the architecture and the uniformity of the buildings. It also really reminds of the scene in the 1968 version of Oliver where the flower seller starts her "who will buy my sweet red roses" song (despite learning that the street doesn't exist in London, or anywhere else in the UK for that matter, it was built on a sound stage at Shepperton Studios #anotherchildhoodclassicruined).
 |
| a still from the film Oliver 1968 |
The town houses on Cartwright Gardens are grade II listed building and I learned that even the hanging baskets have to be approved and identically hung! I love listed buildings and think that they should be protected but I'm not sure I'd like the restrictions of living in one.
One of my favourite (loser-sneeze) pass-times when I've got a few minutes to spare is checking out property websites such as Zoopla and Mouseprice which record data from the Land Registry office, so you can get to see how much properties sold for in a particular area (great tool when negotiating house prices, great in general for nosey parkers like me). Properties don't come up for sale very often in Cartwright Gardens but the most recent, a 1-bedroom flat sold for a whopping £1.1million in April.
Maybe its just me but I'm feeling very underwhelmed.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Pond Matters
The pond has been a big point of contention in this house. There have been several near-showdowns over differing styles and visions for the house and garden and it the end a treaty was drawn up which decreed .... The look of the interior of the house is my domain and my husband is in charge of outdoors and his 'precious' office (ok I'm still seething that he won't allow me to keep the tumble dryer in there, a fact that I'm reminded of each day because its currently taking up residence in the corner of the dining room).
Back to the pond.
My immediate reaction was to drain it and get rid. We don't know the first thing about ponds and the temptation for the kids put things or themselves in there will be too great.
My husband, inspired by his Nigerian culture wanted to set up a "point and kill" (these are commonplace in fish restaurants in Nigeria, you choose what food will appear on your plate, straight from the tank where it is happy swimming around, "you can't get fresher than that" .... apparently).
This caused no end of arguments ... maybe I fell for that one hook line and sinker (if you'll pardon the pun!).
Thankfully good sense prevailed and he decided in the end that he would drain the pond, clean it up, salvage what plants and finally add some fish. He also decided to pave around the perimeter of the pond to preserve the grass that was rapidly turning into a mud bath on his way back and forth to the office.
This is probably the best "before" picture I have of the pond, from the estate agents literature. You can see how the grass was getting worn away (left hand side of the picture)
He researched on the internet and over a period of about 2 weeks, completely drained the pond (and the sludge at the bottom), hosed down the pond lining, refilled it, fixed the filter and pump, installed the fountain, salvaged the plants that could be saved and paved all around the edge.
It looked amazing, the pond was crystal clear, so clear in fact that we decided that we needed to get some slate or stones to hide the pond lining which was spoiling the look. (B&Q large blue slate chippings)
We were advised to let the pond be for a couple of weeks before stocking it with fish, and we noticed in teh final week that the pond started to turn murky. We found a great garden centre / nursery, Woodcote Green, that we never knew existed and had a look around. We got lots of inspiration and could have spent a fortune. After a look around I asked one the staff for some help. "We've just set up the pond. Can you recommend some hardy fish that are really REALLY hard to kill. I don't want anything temperamental that will turn up its fins at the slightest change in environment ...... I have £20 to spend". He gave me a bit of a dubious look, I think he was in two minds as to whether he should sell me any fish but took us over to a couple of varieties of goldfish and shubunkins.
I managed to keep the kids from terrorising the fish on the way home by telling them could chose 10 each and they had to name them. Lewis chose a variation on a theme, he got as far as Jacob .... Jake .... Jack. Layla named hers after her nursery school friends.
We let the fish out of the bag as soon as the temperatures had equalised. I don't know if you have ever watched Finding Nemo but the fish bascially did a "Marlin" and shot to the safety of a grass-like plant in the pond .... and stayed there. We were told they would be a little shy at first but would soon be appearing at the surface if we looked like we might feed them. Two weeks on, they are still kinda shy .... not sure how much of that is to do with Layla who is their equivalent of "Darla", all she needs are the braces! I not sure if fish can hear (I hope not) because she's taken to sitting on the edge of the pond and screaming "Come out and play fishies" .... or, on more scary occasions screeching "Here's Layla!!!" with a bit of a gleam in her eye.
<tumbleweeds>
Anyway .....
Over the next few days, the murky water turned into pea soup, the only reassurance we had that the fish were surviving was the fact that none were floating on the surface!
.... that is until a friend clued me in that the fish could be getting picked off by herons! To be honest I don't have the will to get up at dawn to see if they are any herons flying in for breakfast. I'm working on two theories (a) we live 12 miles from central London and its too 'urban' for herons and (b) if there are any herons they can't see any further through the pea soup than I can.
Through a various sources we have learnt that the pea soup is algae, its common at this time of year, the plants haven't recovered enough after winter to do their 'circle of life' thing that sorts out the algae and if we get plants that cover the surface of the water and prevent some of the direct sunlight hitting the pond, it can help. My rose-tinted version of a pond with white water lilies was suddenly looking less rose-tinted and we were back off to the garden centre in pursuit of water-lilies and some pond-clear treatment.
I got my white water lily. Its a 'baby' plant so at the moment its lurking beneath the surface of the water but I've been told they grow pretty fast so pictures to follow of that.
The pond treatment is working (very) slowly but surely. We put the treatment in 3 days ago and the water has cleared enough that WE CAN SEE THE FISH (only managed to count 6, we'll worry about that when the pond is clear enough for a proper 'tail'count).
In the meantime here is a picture of the pond-end of the garden and Martins 'supervising' Layla feeding the fish.
Back to the pond.
My immediate reaction was to drain it and get rid. We don't know the first thing about ponds and the temptation for the kids put things or themselves in there will be too great.
My husband, inspired by his Nigerian culture wanted to set up a "point and kill" (these are commonplace in fish restaurants in Nigeria, you choose what food will appear on your plate, straight from the tank where it is happy swimming around, "you can't get fresher than that" .... apparently).
This caused no end of arguments ... maybe I fell for that one hook line and sinker (if you'll pardon the pun!).
Thankfully good sense prevailed and he decided in the end that he would drain the pond, clean it up, salvage what plants and finally add some fish. He also decided to pave around the perimeter of the pond to preserve the grass that was rapidly turning into a mud bath on his way back and forth to the office.
This is probably the best "before" picture I have of the pond, from the estate agents literature. You can see how the grass was getting worn away (left hand side of the picture)
He researched on the internet and over a period of about 2 weeks, completely drained the pond (and the sludge at the bottom), hosed down the pond lining, refilled it, fixed the filter and pump, installed the fountain, salvaged the plants that could be saved and paved all around the edge.
It looked amazing, the pond was crystal clear, so clear in fact that we decided that we needed to get some slate or stones to hide the pond lining which was spoiling the look. (B&Q large blue slate chippings)
We were advised to let the pond be for a couple of weeks before stocking it with fish, and we noticed in teh final week that the pond started to turn murky. We found a great garden centre / nursery, Woodcote Green, that we never knew existed and had a look around. We got lots of inspiration and could have spent a fortune. After a look around I asked one the staff for some help. "We've just set up the pond. Can you recommend some hardy fish that are really REALLY hard to kill. I don't want anything temperamental that will turn up its fins at the slightest change in environment ...... I have £20 to spend". He gave me a bit of a dubious look, I think he was in two minds as to whether he should sell me any fish but took us over to a couple of varieties of goldfish and shubunkins.
I managed to keep the kids from terrorising the fish on the way home by telling them could chose 10 each and they had to name them. Lewis chose a variation on a theme, he got as far as Jacob .... Jake .... Jack. Layla named hers after her nursery school friends.
We let the fish out of the bag as soon as the temperatures had equalised. I don't know if you have ever watched Finding Nemo but the fish bascially did a "Marlin" and shot to the safety of a grass-like plant in the pond .... and stayed there. We were told they would be a little shy at first but would soon be appearing at the surface if we looked like we might feed them. Two weeks on, they are still kinda shy .... not sure how much of that is to do with Layla who is their equivalent of "Darla", all she needs are the braces! I not sure if fish can hear (I hope not) because she's taken to sitting on the edge of the pond and screaming "Come out and play fishies" .... or, on more scary occasions screeching "Here's Layla!!!" with a bit of a gleam in her eye.
<tumbleweeds>
Anyway .....
Over the next few days, the murky water turned into pea soup, the only reassurance we had that the fish were surviving was the fact that none were floating on the surface!
.... that is until a friend clued me in that the fish could be getting picked off by herons! To be honest I don't have the will to get up at dawn to see if they are any herons flying in for breakfast. I'm working on two theories (a) we live 12 miles from central London and its too 'urban' for herons and (b) if there are any herons they can't see any further through the pea soup than I can.
Through a various sources we have learnt that the pea soup is algae, its common at this time of year, the plants haven't recovered enough after winter to do their 'circle of life' thing that sorts out the algae and if we get plants that cover the surface of the water and prevent some of the direct sunlight hitting the pond, it can help. My rose-tinted version of a pond with white water lilies was suddenly looking less rose-tinted and we were back off to the garden centre in pursuit of water-lilies and some pond-clear treatment.
I got my white water lily. Its a 'baby' plant so at the moment its lurking beneath the surface of the water but I've been told they grow pretty fast so pictures to follow of that.
The pond treatment is working (very) slowly but surely. We put the treatment in 3 days ago and the water has cleared enough that WE CAN SEE THE FISH (only managed to count 6, we'll worry about that when the pond is clear enough for a proper 'tail'count).
In the meantime here is a picture of the pond-end of the garden and Martins 'supervising' Layla feeding the fish.
Sunday, 6 May 2012
Finding "The One"
We pressed the doorbell "ding-thunk" ......'well, the doorbell has to go .... why on earth would you have a doorbell that sounds like its got a wooden leg' (the irony of this is that the ding-thunk is still in residence 7 months on).
The seller opened the door and invited us into her home. The first thing that struck me was that they were major Rat Pack fans, there were prints throughout the hallway of Sammy Davis Jnr, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin throughout the hallway. Hidden behind the prints I caught glimpses of neutral walls and my gaze went down to the floor, netural carpet. 'so far so good' . There was a tall chest of drawers in the hallway ..... 'there is space for a chest of drawers in the hallway!'.
We went into the main living room, it was huge, at least to our frame of reference, I'm sure there are larger living rooms to be had, but it was the biggest living room we'd seen by far, at least, the largest we could afford. It was fairly packed with furniture, and things, lots of music related artwork and still had room to move. Doing a quick mental inventory of our lounge current lounge furniture, I realised to my delight that I'd actually have to buy more things, just to fill it up a bit more (yay!)
Next was the dining room, neutral walls but lots going on with artwork and there was a huge oak dresser against one wall and of course their dining table but immediately I could see that there would be plenty of room for our large dining table which Mum used claim you could only look at it but not sit at it, so tight was the gap between the back of the chairs and the wall. (rolling eyes .... 'mothers!"). There was a wooden floor albeit laminate in the dining room. I'll take laminate anyday over what we had in our rented house. Our Landlord (who was actually a great guy, the best landlord ever), for reasons I'll never fathom out, saw us coming to look around the place, a family with a newborn and a toddler and then saw fit to install light beige carpet. I never thought we'd see our damages deposit back. Did you know Weetabix is the devil's work to get out of carpet? Who knew breakfast cereals could be so menacing? The thought of being able to sweep up the under-dining-table carnage that comes with feeding time in our house and simply mop the remainder was pure joy, I can tell you.
The kitchen was a bit of a let down. It was dated, country pine units .... ('why????), yellow and blue tiles ... ('WHY????') and a blue / grey counter that I sure was all the rage in the 1990's was still loud and proud and daring me to challenge it. The main thing was it wasn't as big as I'd hoped, you can't easily change the size of a room. We were really spoiled in our rented house with a large(ish), newly fitted kitchen. I mentally started to work through these hurdles ... 'paint on the cupboards, tile paint and a replacement counter from Ikea, will freshen it up without costing the earth, its not soooooo bad (oh ... yes it is) .... I can live with a temporary fix ('cos I'm sure not going to live with it like this) until we tear it out and get one we like'.
Back into the dining room and there were doors .... double french doors, flung open (light & airy) onto the decked patio area ... 'I'll have a proper patio area, I can get proper garden table and chairs, there's a corner for the BBQ .... we can entertain outside in the summer'. The garden was lined with trees and shrubs and there was a pond ... and an iron archway that could house the climbing roses I'd always dreamed of having. Immediately I had visions of lazy summer afternoons, relaxing after pottering in the garden in the morning, the children's laughter carried on the breeze, the sound of garden chimes tinkling, a chilled glass of wine in my hand and the smell of sausgages sizzling on the BBQ. Only to be rudely interrupted by the real picture. I'd spend all afternoon schreeching at my daugthter (the youngest is the trouble maker and the oldest is savvy enough to follow her lead because he will have his defence already lined up "Layla started it!!!"). She will be poking in the pond, .... or actually in the pond, or digging up the garden, covered in soil, they'll be whacking the trees and shrubs or insects with sticks, nothing will survive ... which won't all be down to them because my fingers of death will have killed virtually every thriving plant in the place, and we'll realise, as we prepare the BBQ food that we don't have and charcoal, and everywhere will be sold out because everyone in the surrounding area will have already cleaned Tesco and the vicinity out off all things BBQ related, like a swarm of locusts.
The garden in the sun, in full bloom was gorgeous.
One of the best things about the garden was the brick built office building. This turned out to be an office and a library of vinyl for the current owners. Great!!! A home for all the equipment that belong to the Taekwondo Academy my husband set up, and all the paperwork that goes with it. I had visions of housing everything I couldn't find a proper place for down there. My husband had very different ideas.
I wasn't sure about the pond. Neither of us know the first thing about ponds. It seemed to me like it would be a hazard risk for the kids and very stinky in the summer, plus my Dad is honestly, truly, terrified of frogs. We'd never get him in the back garden for those idyllic BBQ's. I can just about cast my mind back far enough to when I was quite small, we had a pond in our garden. My Dad spotted a frog in it. The pond was promptly drained and filled in with cement. I didn't understand the reasons at the time ... pond one day ... gone the next.
The kids were sold on the garden. They of course, eyed up the pond with wicked glee and Layla was quite taked with the selection of decorative stone animals dotted around the garden 'please let them be taken by the owners' (I'd clearly started to come around to the idea of actually living there).
Upstairs there was a huge master bedroom, plenty of room for our super king sized bed.
The smallest bedroom which was at the front of the house was, at the time home to a teenage girl. She had her bed, and a large wardrobe in there, posters and a pin board and all the other ususal acroutements of a teenage girl. The size, for a 3rd bedroom was generous, ok so you couldn't really throw a party in there but there was enough room for Layla to play a little on the floor and I could easily fast forward ten years to imagine her sitting on the bed gossiping heatedly (swooning) about whoever will be the future Justin Beiber or the next Edward Cullen-esque character. I had a vague realisation that if I was imagining Layla and her friends sitting on the bed ten years down the line then I must be warming to this house.
(Sorry, there wasn't a picture of this room on the estate agents website)
The 2nd (huge) bedroom at the back of the house contained a male in his late teens / early twenties (the fact that I couldn't put an age on him is probably a good indication that I'm getting told, so far away was that time of my life that I was completely out of touch with it). Anyway he was revising for his 'last exams' so I'd put my money on them being his university / college last exams rather than A'Level's. He was clearly a huge Rat Pack fan, artwork everywhere, so I stated the obvious as a question "Rat pack fan then??", feeling a bit award about looking around the room whilst he was trying to revise. He told us he loved the music, was in a tribute band as a kind of hobby and gave us a really awesome rendition of Frank Sinatra's Come Fly with Me. Much to Layla's delight there was a cat curled up asleep on the bed which promptly bolted once she sidled up to it.
There was also a door tucked away in the corner of the room which led to a small ensuite with a step-in shower, a toilet and small sink.
The main bathroom was next to it (obviously with a wall in between) that was home a bath, sink and toilet. Like the kitchen, it was a bit dated, lots of country pine but nothing that we couldn't live with until we got around to updating it.
I think, the bathroom and shower room would have been a separate bathroom and toilet but somewhere in the house's history the door to the toilet would have been out onto the landing but had more recently been closed off and made into an ensuite for the second bedroom.
So we trouped back downstairs said our 'thank you for showing is around's and left. We slapped our poker faces back on (which were probably not very poker-like by that point, after being so clearly captivated by the house) when the Estate Agent asked us if we liked it. "It was nice" we said, nonchalantly, and in my best 'couldn't care less' voice " .... but, we've seen a lot of houses today and have a lot to think about" ... we said we'd be in touch tomorrow and parted ways.
We piled back into the car and I immediately turned to my husband and said "What do you think?", I knew he was keen on the idea of an office (a haven / den) and the general size of the rooms, "I like it" he said, "Me too" I said. "I think we should call back in the morning and try and arrange a second viewing, look at it with fresh eyes. It's bound to look good after everything else we've seen today ....... but I really REALLY do like it". "Me too".
I turned back to the kids and said "Which house did you like the best?". And after some consideration "The cat house" they said together. "Shall we buy it?" I said. "YES!" they said. "You know the house doesn't actually come with the cat. It belongs to the people that live there and they will take the cat with them when they move". "Oh" said Lewis, sounding a bit crestfallen .............. and then more hopefully, "Can we get a trampoline then?"
The seller opened the door and invited us into her home. The first thing that struck me was that they were major Rat Pack fans, there were prints throughout the hallway of Sammy Davis Jnr, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin throughout the hallway. Hidden behind the prints I caught glimpses of neutral walls and my gaze went down to the floor, netural carpet. 'so far so good' . There was a tall chest of drawers in the hallway ..... 'there is space for a chest of drawers in the hallway!'.
We went into the main living room, it was huge, at least to our frame of reference, I'm sure there are larger living rooms to be had, but it was the biggest living room we'd seen by far, at least, the largest we could afford. It was fairly packed with furniture, and things, lots of music related artwork and still had room to move. Doing a quick mental inventory of our lounge current lounge furniture, I realised to my delight that I'd actually have to buy more things, just to fill it up a bit more (yay!)
Next was the dining room, neutral walls but lots going on with artwork and there was a huge oak dresser against one wall and of course their dining table but immediately I could see that there would be plenty of room for our large dining table which Mum used claim you could only look at it but not sit at it, so tight was the gap between the back of the chairs and the wall. (rolling eyes .... 'mothers!"). There was a wooden floor albeit laminate in the dining room. I'll take laminate anyday over what we had in our rented house. Our Landlord (who was actually a great guy, the best landlord ever), for reasons I'll never fathom out, saw us coming to look around the place, a family with a newborn and a toddler and then saw fit to install light beige carpet. I never thought we'd see our damages deposit back. Did you know Weetabix is the devil's work to get out of carpet? Who knew breakfast cereals could be so menacing? The thought of being able to sweep up the under-dining-table carnage that comes with feeding time in our house and simply mop the remainder was pure joy, I can tell you.
The kitchen was a bit of a let down. It was dated, country pine units .... ('why????), yellow and blue tiles ... ('WHY????') and a blue / grey counter that I sure was all the rage in the 1990's was still loud and proud and daring me to challenge it. The main thing was it wasn't as big as I'd hoped, you can't easily change the size of a room. We were really spoiled in our rented house with a large(ish), newly fitted kitchen. I mentally started to work through these hurdles ... 'paint on the cupboards, tile paint and a replacement counter from Ikea, will freshen it up without costing the earth, its not soooooo bad (oh ... yes it is) .... I can live with a temporary fix ('cos I'm sure not going to live with it like this) until we tear it out and get one we like'.
Back into the dining room and there were doors .... double french doors, flung open (light & airy) onto the decked patio area ... 'I'll have a proper patio area, I can get proper garden table and chairs, there's a corner for the BBQ .... we can entertain outside in the summer'. The garden was lined with trees and shrubs and there was a pond ... and an iron archway that could house the climbing roses I'd always dreamed of having. Immediately I had visions of lazy summer afternoons, relaxing after pottering in the garden in the morning, the children's laughter carried on the breeze, the sound of garden chimes tinkling, a chilled glass of wine in my hand and the smell of sausgages sizzling on the BBQ. Only to be rudely interrupted by the real picture. I'd spend all afternoon schreeching at my daugthter (the youngest is the trouble maker and the oldest is savvy enough to follow her lead because he will have his defence already lined up "Layla started it!!!"). She will be poking in the pond, .... or actually in the pond, or digging up the garden, covered in soil, they'll be whacking the trees and shrubs or insects with sticks, nothing will survive ... which won't all be down to them because my fingers of death will have killed virtually every thriving plant in the place, and we'll realise, as we prepare the BBQ food that we don't have and charcoal, and everywhere will be sold out because everyone in the surrounding area will have already cleaned Tesco and the vicinity out off all things BBQ related, like a swarm of locusts.
The garden in the sun, in full bloom was gorgeous.
One of the best things about the garden was the brick built office building. This turned out to be an office and a library of vinyl for the current owners. Great!!! A home for all the equipment that belong to the Taekwondo Academy my husband set up, and all the paperwork that goes with it. I had visions of housing everything I couldn't find a proper place for down there. My husband had very different ideas.
I wasn't sure about the pond. Neither of us know the first thing about ponds. It seemed to me like it would be a hazard risk for the kids and very stinky in the summer, plus my Dad is honestly, truly, terrified of frogs. We'd never get him in the back garden for those idyllic BBQ's. I can just about cast my mind back far enough to when I was quite small, we had a pond in our garden. My Dad spotted a frog in it. The pond was promptly drained and filled in with cement. I didn't understand the reasons at the time ... pond one day ... gone the next.
The kids were sold on the garden. They of course, eyed up the pond with wicked glee and Layla was quite taked with the selection of decorative stone animals dotted around the garden 'please let them be taken by the owners' (I'd clearly started to come around to the idea of actually living there).
Upstairs there was a huge master bedroom, plenty of room for our super king sized bed.
The smallest bedroom which was at the front of the house was, at the time home to a teenage girl. She had her bed, and a large wardrobe in there, posters and a pin board and all the other ususal acroutements of a teenage girl. The size, for a 3rd bedroom was generous, ok so you couldn't really throw a party in there but there was enough room for Layla to play a little on the floor and I could easily fast forward ten years to imagine her sitting on the bed gossiping heatedly (swooning) about whoever will be the future Justin Beiber or the next Edward Cullen-esque character. I had a vague realisation that if I was imagining Layla and her friends sitting on the bed ten years down the line then I must be warming to this house.
(Sorry, there wasn't a picture of this room on the estate agents website)
The 2nd (huge) bedroom at the back of the house contained a male in his late teens / early twenties (the fact that I couldn't put an age on him is probably a good indication that I'm getting told, so far away was that time of my life that I was completely out of touch with it). Anyway he was revising for his 'last exams' so I'd put my money on them being his university / college last exams rather than A'Level's. He was clearly a huge Rat Pack fan, artwork everywhere, so I stated the obvious as a question "Rat pack fan then??", feeling a bit award about looking around the room whilst he was trying to revise. He told us he loved the music, was in a tribute band as a kind of hobby and gave us a really awesome rendition of Frank Sinatra's Come Fly with Me. Much to Layla's delight there was a cat curled up asleep on the bed which promptly bolted once she sidled up to it.
There was also a door tucked away in the corner of the room which led to a small ensuite with a step-in shower, a toilet and small sink.
The main bathroom was next to it (obviously with a wall in between) that was home a bath, sink and toilet. Like the kitchen, it was a bit dated, lots of country pine but nothing that we couldn't live with until we got around to updating it.
I think, the bathroom and shower room would have been a separate bathroom and toilet but somewhere in the house's history the door to the toilet would have been out onto the landing but had more recently been closed off and made into an ensuite for the second bedroom.
So we trouped back downstairs said our 'thank you for showing is around's and left. We slapped our poker faces back on (which were probably not very poker-like by that point, after being so clearly captivated by the house) when the Estate Agent asked us if we liked it. "It was nice" we said, nonchalantly, and in my best 'couldn't care less' voice " .... but, we've seen a lot of houses today and have a lot to think about" ... we said we'd be in touch tomorrow and parted ways.
We piled back into the car and I immediately turned to my husband and said "What do you think?", I knew he was keen on the idea of an office (a haven / den) and the general size of the rooms, "I like it" he said, "Me too" I said. "I think we should call back in the morning and try and arrange a second viewing, look at it with fresh eyes. It's bound to look good after everything else we've seen today ....... but I really REALLY do like it". "Me too".
I turned back to the kids and said "Which house did you like the best?". And after some consideration "The cat house" they said together. "Shall we buy it?" I said. "YES!" they said. "You know the house doesn't actually come with the cat. It belongs to the people that live there and they will take the cat with them when they move". "Oh" said Lewis, sounding a bit crestfallen .............. and then more hopefully, "Can we get a trampoline then?"
Saturday, 5 May 2012
Viewing Day
What can I say? It was uncharacteristically warm (32 degrees centigrade), we have both the kids in tow for reasons that escape me now. I only know it would have been out of necessity and not out of choice. I couldn't actually think of anything worse than taking our kids (who were 5 and 3 at the time) around other people's houses, some of which could possibly be filled with the sellers belongings ... or indeed the sellers themselves.
The potential for disaster was too high. Little children have little fingers that are prone to breaking things that don't belong to them or worse still, biting inanimate objects, like dining tablets, so you can "see my teeth mummy" or God forbid making comments or asking questions that may be truthful and valid, but are not appropriate to use in polite company ..... "mummy ... Mummy ... MUMMY!!!! Come and see what a mess this kitchen is." There is nothing worse than looking around someones house and hearing "There's a poo in the toilet, and its big and it's brown, there's a poo in the toilet and its brown" (sung to the tune of the well known hymm "When I Needed A Neighbour") sailing down the stairs... (Ground. Open up and swallow me whole).
Once the kids were metaphorically bound and gagged with the promise of ice cream for good behaviour we set off.
House #1 ticked most of the boxes but no off-road parking and kitchen was unfeasibly small even for someone who doesn't enjoy cooking, and complete with a British Racing Green Aga, which, I was promptly told, would be going with the sellers. 'Thank goodness for that' I thought to myself, great big ugly things, I've never understood the fuss and yearning that seems to surround Aga cookers .... maybe its because I don't enjoy cooking or baking that I just don't get it. The sellers showed us round and gave such a rehearsed sales pitch that I think they bought their own spin and decided to stay. They took the house off the market that evening, I hope it wasn't anything I said. When we were in the back garden I asked why they were moving and Mrs said "we love the house but want somewhere with a bigger garden so my husband can have a shed for his tools". "Oh, ok" I said ....'what???' . The garden was a decent size .... "plenty of room for a shed here" I said. Maybe that was the final nail in the coffin.
House #2 ticked a lot of boxes, a bit far from a bus or tram stop, husband liked, me, not so much. The seller showed us around this house too. She was moving to Australia to live near her daughter who'd settled out there. The house was really nice on paper, and it reality ... I just didn't feel like it was "the one". One of the things that struck me as odd was when she was showing us into the bathroom, she said "the water pressure is great". I thought at the time, what a funny thing to say, its such an obvious statement like "we have electricity in the house" ... it kinda goes without saying ..... little did I know.
House #3. Fantastic. Ticked 8 boxes. This one was empty. The rooms were large, bright and airy. The back garden was a bit on the small side, I confess but nothing that immediately took it out of the running. The gentleman who had lived there previously was disabled and had a drive in lift / elevator for his wheelchair. You entered the lift in the dining room and ended up in the rear bedroom. I'm sure this was a great asset for him and enabled him to maintain his independence and stay in his home much longer that if it hadn't been there. BUT, from our point of view, we saw all the cabling and reinforced steel posts required for such a piece of machinery, not to mention a whacking great hole in the first floor. Did they not read my "must not need major structural work" comment? On further investigation of the downstairs toilet our son found a stuffed mechanical monkey, like the one in Toy Story 3, which freaked him out, understandably. Who in the world would design such a horror of a toy for children?
And that, effectively, was the end of that house.
House #4: This house was deceptively small ... (I always get confused as whether 'deceptively small' means the object was deceptive in its appearance because it looked large and was actually small, or the 'small' was deceiving and the object was large ... google assures me it is the latter, but to be clear, I mean the house looked small from the outside but went back for miles). We kinda liked it, but the layout was really unconventional which is fine if you want to be a bit kooky and unique but not fine if you need to tramp half a mile in the middle of the night to tend to a wailing child. The garden was not really happening either, it had been landscaped with gravel had a great number of climbing plants around archways which was very pretty and it gave us garden ideas for when the kids are older but didn't leave much room for garden toys and the paddling pool.
House #5. This house on paper was pretty much on point. It ticked all the boxes, its just about within budget but it meant we'd have no spare cash left for decorating or rennovating, so fingers crossed that it didn't need much work doing to it. The seller had tenants in situ. The tenants had dogs in situ. Now I love dogs, don't get me wrong. Dogs over cats any day of the week. I'm always happy to stop and pet them, I even owned one at one stage in my life (Molly dog, a very adorable collie cross from a rescue centre). These dogs were Great Danes. There were 3 of them. The Tenants were kind enough to lock them away whilst we viewed the house. It felt like the dogs had taken over. There was dog hair everywhere, they'd chewed all the furniture, the kitchen looked like it wouldn't have been out of place at Battersea Dogs Home. I know the furniture would go and the mess could be cleared but it felt like I would cleaning dog hair, decontaminating and de-pooping the back garden for a long time to come, and not enough spare cash to call in a professional cleaning crew and repaint.
By this point in the day the temperature had hiked up, the kids were getting fidgety, my husband was getting bored quite frankly and I was getting irritated that none of these houses reflected the things that we wanted. So we sat in the car outside house number 6 waiting for the agent to turn up, all of us getting hotter and more irritated by the minute. I had a great sense of foreboding when some 12 year old rocked up in his spivvy tie and suit and a clipboard. This was not going to go well.
House #6. I don't know what to say about this house. It was hard to tell whether it ticked all or any of the boxes because I couldn't get over the fact that this house was packed with boxes and things and trinkets and other unnecessary clutter than was reminiscent of Monica's secret cupboard in Friends. I think they were borderline hoarders. It felt small and we couldn't get out of there fast enough. I'm not judging how people live ... each to their own but COME ON!!! When you are selling a house you want to present it in the best possible light. Estate Agents literature will tell you to put on a pot of fresh coffee or have cookies baking in the oven when prospective buyers are coming around (maybe that's just for the Martha Stewart's of this world). Tidy up the front garden and paint the front door (first impressions count). Put a lick of paint on the walls (no-one likes finger prints and furniture marks). Replace any old / damaged bathroom suites with a basic, low cost white suite ... but above all, de-clutter and tidy the heck up!!!!
I drive past it quite regularly, it is still up for sale. Not. Really. Surprised
So we get outside and spivvy tie says "I've actually got one more property to show you" and has the audacity to look like we are in for a real treat. I flick through the schedule .....6 houses ....6 viewings. I glared at him, "its not on the schedule .... does it fit the brief?? because we've just seen 6 houses that were supposed to have ticked all the boxes ... and they ticked about 6 .... between them". "Trust me" he said "this next one is the one, its just come onto the market, I don't even have the details printed up yet". I gave him the side-eye, "trust me" he says. I looked over to my husband for his agreement to endure yet another house viewing, he gave an infinitesimal nod and we were back in the car tailing Spivvy to the next location. All the while I'm thinking "trust me??? he's an estate agent, he's right down there with the tax man, mechanics, builders and perhaps dentists when they say "this won't hurt a bit" for general trustworthiness.
So we parked just around the corner from the house and walked back, running a monologue in my head 'is this not a main road? big red cross in that box, this is going to be a waste of time'. We approached a row of four 1920's terraces and followed Spivvy towards the front door of the second. I checked out the crazy paving driveway 'space for two cars, maybe 3 at a squeeze ... we only need space for one ... the crazy paving is, of course hideous and will have to go', looked at the huge bay fronted windows, 'plantation shutters will cost a fortune on windows that size, but they do look light an airy'. By the time we reached the doorstep I'd conceded like a petulant teenager "it's ok I s'pose, I'll try to keep an open mind" .....
Sorting the wheat from the naff
One of the pieces of advice Mum gave us when we were dithering about the "Almost" House was to go and look at as many houses as we could that were around the same price so we'd be more sure if the "Almost" house was the one.
I scoured Right Move and found a few contenders. I called the Estate Agents to arrange viewings on the properties I'd seen and asked them set up viewings on properties that ticked all the boxes on our list.
That was my first mistake.
After a few days we were in receipt of a 2 day schedule and 16 sets of property details. I quickly realised, that Estate Agents don't want to sell you a house you want - they want to sell you a house, period. We were left with 7 houses once we discarded the ones that were so far off the mark that we wondered if they were meant for us ..... can someone please explain to me how 6' x 5ft9 constitutes a third bedroom? Surely there is a rule in the Trade Descriptions Act that dictates that a bed can fit into a room before it can be referred to as a bedroom? (...... insert tumble weeds here .....) Apparently not!
I scoured Right Move and found a few contenders. I called the Estate Agents to arrange viewings on the properties I'd seen and asked them set up viewings on properties that ticked all the boxes on our list.
That was my first mistake.
After a few days we were in receipt of a 2 day schedule and 16 sets of property details. I quickly realised, that Estate Agents don't want to sell you a house you want - they want to sell you a house, period. We were left with 7 houses once we discarded the ones that were so far off the mark that we wondered if they were meant for us ..... can someone please explain to me how 6' x 5ft9 constitutes a third bedroom? Surely there is a rule in the Trade Descriptions Act that dictates that a bed can fit into a room before it can be referred to as a bedroom? (...... insert tumble weeds here .....) Apparently not!
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