Some days you are comfortably above the water level, others
you are gasping for air. Today’s a bit of a gasper.
No real reason – the situation hasn’t changed other than I
know a few more facts, coming up after this paragraph. I had a lovely evening
last night. Some kind friends invited me over for a dinner party. The food was
delish, the company likewise. Though there were seven other people present, I
did more than an eighth of the talking. A LOT more than an eighth, and this has
been bugging me a bit. I’m a chatty girl most of the time, probably because I
spend so long on my own. I don’t want to scare people off with that: “Ooo don't invite Lizzie – she
doesn’t shut up!” I did return home feeling smiley and happy and
positive, which was a lovely gift. It’s worn off pretty quickly this morning,
as I look about the house thinking “my days here are numbered.” Maybe that’s
it? I feel a wraith of depressive fog circling my head, slowing me down
and making it difficult to work. I must fight it.
The financial adviser from the estate agency that are
dealing with it all called me earlier in the week, and very kindly answered a
lot of my questions. I asked him to pull no punches, just land it all on me
honestly, so he did. Here’s the bones of it: (specific figures available on
request)
1) The house is valued at X.
2) The maximum amount I might be able to borrow is about Y. I
say “might” as not only does me being self-employed make lenders go “hmmmmmm……?”
but I’m weirdly self-employed – not a
plumber or a hairdresser… a freelance puzzle compiler??? Try finding that on
any automated career lists. I’m also a baker/confectioner, a singer and a
public speaker – so my income stream is from various things rather than just
one, which (to the folks with the funding) is even less desirable. I need to
demonstrate stability.
3) Even if I could get that, they’d do an
affordability assessment on me too, and I’d probably fail that. The fact that I’ve
paid rent steadily for 2.5 years means nothing. Lenders give no credit for past
achievements!
4) Assuming I could convince someone to
let me have a mortgage based on my income, and plus my deposit (Z), I could
afford less than half of this house.
5) So if I wanted to buy it I would need
to find X-(Y+Z) more spondoolicks.
6) I could
ask e.g. ten people I know to “gift” me X-(Y+Z)/10. This is
ultra-complicated. Their investment would have to be a “gift” as lenders would
shy away if they knew they were sharing house ownership with ten other parties.
However, it would be my intention to pay the investors back what they put in
plus their share of how much the house had increased in value when I was ready
to move on/repay. Messy. Tricky. Relies on trust. Not a good idea.
7) The Government’s “Help to Buy” scheme
is apparently linked to certain houses only. They don’t give you money, they
merely underwrite a portion of your mortgage i.e. vouch for you. I could borrow
a bit more, should I be eligible and should I deem to live in one of these
certain houses (which are mostly newbuilds). The scheme ends this year, so if
it was my direction I’d better get my skates on.
8) I could
find a guarantor. This is basically someone who applies for the mortgage in
their name for me. Their income and age would be taken into account, so it
would need to be someone with a good couple of decades of working life left,
and earning around three times more than me. Apparently the age factor is very
important. It could be more than one person, but everyone who signed up would
have to have their credit checked and go through all the hassle of obtaining a
mortgage. After that, it would be me that made the repayments. After winning
the lottery, marrying a sugar daddy just for his cash, selling my body, this is
actually the most sensible and likely thing to do. And it looks like my only
hope.
I did think about crowdfunding to make up the deficiency. With
that, I’d have to pledge a reward in return for the donations. I did me a
little menu of what I might offer:
- In return for a £10 donation, you would receive a decorated “Thank You” biscuit, handmade be moi.
- For £50, a handmade batch of something (choc brownie, Malteser cake, millionaire’s shortbread – oh, the irony), sent to anywhere in the UK.
- £100 would get you a basic party cake, sent to your door.
- For £200, I’d record and upload a vid of me singing a song of your choice, dedicated to you.
- £500 and a custom-compiled crossword all about you would be yours.
- If you could stretch to £1000, I could write you a script for a pantomime, tailored to your specific pantomime requirements.
Yes. It made me laugh too.
And of course, it wouldn’t work. Who’d give money to some
git to buy a house when there are tonnes more worthy causes? Who’d pay
over-inflated prices for stuff they could get more cheaply elsewhere? Even if
they did, how would I honour all these pledges? I could find myself having to
write fifty pantomime scripts, and it still wouldn’t be enough money. It’s a
shame they don’t allow you to offer sexual favours – I might have stood a
chance there, killing several birds with one ill-advised illicit stone. In conclusion,
it’s a “no” to crowdfunding.
Age-wise I’ve got about twenty-five working years ahead of
me. (I know it’ll be a lot more than this, but that’s what the banks see.) I
feel as if this is make or break time for me: I need to buy something now-ish
or I will miss the boat and be a tenant forever. I asked if it was possible to
sell the house to an investor with me in it, continuing to pay my monthly dues.
Yes, it is, though it is down to the vendor’s discretion, and also the first
thing my new landlord would do, almost definitely, is to raise the rent.
ARGH! It’s all so annoying.
So that’s the summary of all I have done so far to honour Part
C of my plan (see previous post Turn!
Turn! Turn!) In terms of Part B (selling stuff to downsize) it’s going to
take a while to get the Ebay ball rolling. My priority for the next six weeks
is making products to sell at Christmas markets and online.
Part A is something I have been thinking hard about. What is
it I love about this home? What do I dislike? What am I looking for in a new
abode/workplace? I might take you on a virtual tour when it’s not so messy. In
the meantime, here’s what I need:
- Light, airy, spacious house, not only inside, but around it. Avoiding the feeling of being boxed in.
- Three bedrooms. Could work with two. (One to sleep in, one spare, one office. Could combine the spare and office.)
- Shower. Bath optional, but I love having one.
- Gas supply. For central heating and cooking.
- Large kitchen – kitchen diner would be best. Plenty of surface space but preferably an island in the middle rather than edges. It’s nice to face the room when I’m working, not the wall. Double oven very useful.
- Big windows, green stuff outside. (Not moss or mould…) Ideally a good view esp of the setting sun.
- Parking
- Ideally detached as I make a lot of noise (singing, playing, cooking) and do things at strange hours. Semi-detached OK. Don’t want to live in a terrace or a flat please.
- In a nice, peaceful area. Not too many comings and goings, revvings of motor engines, drunk teenagers staggering past.
(NB all this is pretty much what I have now. DAMMIT.)
As if all that wasn’t a big enough ask, I want to stay in
this town. Living here is fabulous. I have never felt so settled or happy in
all my life. I’m establishing myself as a member of society; I’ve made new
friends – people I really, really like. I know my way around and love learning more
about the locality all the time. I am not going to leave Dursley/Cam. No thank
you.
Just had a look online. Anything like the above to buy is
equally out of my price range, leaving me with one-bedroom flats or teeny tiny
terraces. I know how miserable this would make me, so it’s not really an
option, not even a temporary one. (Please, not temporary anything. The prospect of having to set up phone and broadband and services, and notifying EVERYONE about me change of address and... then having to do it all over again when I have to move again?? Oh lordy lordy. Life is too short for that!) There are a couple of OK-ish ones to rent. (I
think whatever happens, I’m in for a rent increase.) Nothing that has made me
want to start throwing things into boxes and hiring vans.
You might want to offer your help, now I know what I need.
It’s either a “gift” of that portion of money that I am lacking; or maybe you
are prepared to be a guarantor for me? Or you know of someone who might be able
to do either of these things, and can forward them this blog link. You can get
in touch by emailing thewizzylizzie@gmail.com
without feeling obliged to follow up offers. Maybe you know of somewhere I could
rent? If none of the above, console yourself with the fact that you just read
through this load of cobblers, which means the number of views this post
has had just increased by one. Knowing that I have the support of people, even
just in spirit, provides me with a great deal of strength and makes it easier
to breathe.
Are
you an eccentric billionaire who would give me the price of my house in return
for a night of passion and Nutella macarons? If not, why not? Another question
I won’t be answering in the next exciting instalment, more gripping than cling
film on everything except the thing you wanted it to cling to.
No comments:
Post a Comment