I went house hunting yesterday. Though kinda on the down low. I was sort of accompanying a colleague who is looking for a new house, but with the vague understanding that I might be interested. I have been slow coming to the idea of homeownership. It seems like a weight around the neck more than anything else and to be honest I never thought I would earn enough that the lady bankers wouldn't scoff down there silk scarf wrapped throats at the thought of a mortgage for me. But it turns out that I might be earning enough to get myself into ridiculous debt.
I have the self awareness that I am not a do-er upp-er-er and have not the supposedly kiwi diy dna but it would be nice to live without that GODDAM red paint in the living room.
My only problem is that there are only two streets in this town that I want to live in, and the people living here (yes the Sav is one of them) don't seem to move a whole lot. Apparently a lovely lady died just round the corner, so we went and had a look at the carnage she had wreaked when she was feeling a little more spry ... circa late sixties by the look of the carpet and the drapes. This beautiful 30-40s state house with rimu and matai floors had all of its original features ripped out - the doors replaced with that beer-bottle coloured textured glass and one of those rubbery concertina doors. She had also made little curtains to hang over such offences as the wardrobe doors and even over the fusebox!
1 comment:
So are you going to buy? I am looking in Prague at the moment. I never thought I would do it either, but Jono is making me. We are buying together, which is brilliant because he lives in Paris. That means I can get something twice as nice as what I should spend just my own money on, but I still get to live there by myself! Of course I am totally turned off by the commitment and responsibility and all of that other stuff I have been avoiding for the last 40 years, but everyone else seems to think it's the right thing to do.
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