Our London flat is now on the market, here.
All those months of hard work and strife are over - let's hope we find a new flat that needs nothing doing to it!
I've pounded the streets of Brighton today looking at yet more flats and now have an inflamed knee, it won't bend - ouch.
(I've also discovered I have 'word-blindness'; when I mean Hove, I keep saying Barnes... this is a good thing ;)
It's Easter and it's snowing. An ice cream van has just pulled up outside playing a jingly little tune.
Only in England.
At the moment I vacillate between being a sloth and a secretly stressed thing. Secretly, because M doesn't know how much I am churned up inside with thoughts and fears over our next move.
It's made me curl up and not want to go out for weeks, everything seems too bloody hard.
- Blogging: too hard.
- Going back to work: too hard.
- Achieving anything (except worrying): too hard.
- Bothering to get a hair cut (well that means money so...): too hard.
My new jeans (size 12) that I bought to replace the (size 14 ones) bought before Christmas are now saggy too. Eating just seems such a chore.
And there are people with real problems like our dearest Kate and her dear old back! I am my own worst enemy. (Kate, I have a DVD I am making for you as a get well present. Expect lots of AGD on it. As for your horrid disc injury you have my utmost sympathy as a fellow burst disk sufferer. *hugs tight*)
So in summary, meh.
We put out flat on the market today after seeing - those necessary evils - the estate agents. It was a toss up between Foxtons and another one at the end of it and we went for the other one. Do people really like 'Cocktons'? Those cars of theirs just set my teeth on edge. PJL (the others) are coming around to do photography and plans tomorrow. I already have some very nice plans that M drew and today I took some photos, because now we are moving we'd like a record of what our five months of hell were about. I bet my photos are better than the Estate Agents.
We are now doing the 'please market don't fall too fast' dance and hoping we get a good price.
So moving. The job transfer M hoped for in Sweden hasn't materialised as yet. Were not giving up hope on the idea of moving outside the UK in the long term but it doesn't look like it's happening this year. Our thoughts therefore have turned to where can we live in the UK outside London that M can commute easily to each day. A commute that isn't longer than his current commute, ideally much shorter, so he can have his life back. Commuting over 2hrs a day isn't fun. The moving outside London bit is mostly so that we can have dream of a time when we'll actually be living in a house not flat.
The past two Tuesdays has found me in Brighton looking at what we can afford there. M has some family there and we have always liked the location. You've guessed it though, more flats are what we can afford; some not even two bed! Flats in a nicer area than here granted, but still flats. The agents there are just as (or even more so) wanky than London it's depressing. I plan to go again next week and brave them.
The problem is the doubt of moving. Are we doing the right thing? Can we sell at a price that makes the refurbishment profitable? Should we move to another flat or hold out for a house sometime in the next decade? Should we rent a really nice flat in Brighton and bank the profit until the market has hit its 'credit crunch' bottom then buy? If we buy now and the market drops sharply as expected later this year we may be in negative equity. 'The Independent' advised buyers to do just that in yesterday's edition and keep saving. Living anywhere near M's work (Guildford) is just as expensive as here and I have a dislike of Surrey. I don't know why I just do, especially Guildford.
Also, cars. I haven't driven in years. If we move outside London or anywhere with good public transport I'll have to drive again and that scares me. That or be isolated and friendless. Well, no change there then from my current cut-off malaise.
Thoughts and doubts swirling around and around. I'm full of Stroth.
