On September 17th 2013 I got on a plane to visit Tony and Yolanda O'Brien in Belgrade, waiting to hear if the offer I'd made on a flat in London at the weekend had been accepted. And nearly 5 months later on February 8th 2014 I got on a plane to Bangkok, waiting to hear if the sale would exchange and complete while I was away. People say moving house is one of the most stressful things you'll ever go through in life, but I really wasn't prepared for what the last 5 months had in store. If you don't want to read the whole sorry story then I won't be offended if you just skip to the photos at the bottom. But for those of you wondering why I've been such an absent friend of late (promise I'll make it up to you now!), please read on......
It was generally pretty smooth sailing up until December, going through the motions of mortgage applications, searches and surveys. The seller's tenants had moved out, I was ready to move in, and I thought I'd be hanging tinsel on my very own Christmas tree before the year was out. That was until we unearthed the £8000 of unpaid service charges that the seller owed the managing agent of the property, dating back to 2006. So in the days leading up to Christmas, rather than sorting out Christmas trees and tinsel I was negotiating with solicitors about legal semantics in order to ensure there was a binding agreement that the total value of service charge arrears would be retained as part of the terms of contract of sale, and that they would be paid directly to the managing agent without the risk of the debt falling to me as the new owner. Turns out that takes a long time. Especially at Christmas. But with an agreement about the arrears finally in place by early January, I felt confident I'd be in my new home well in advance of my work trip to Bangkok. I was wrong.
Although we had agreement on the part of the solicitors that the service charge arrears had been separated from the property itself, we still lacked various important documents from the managing agent regarding the upkeep of the property (there are six flats in the whole building). In leasehold properties, the freeholder (or the managing agent acting on behalf of the freeholder) has to provide a management pack of information such as the buildings insurance policy, freehold title, and (at least the last three years of) accounts - demonstrating how the service charges that the leaseholders pay are being used. Between the estate agent and myself, we called the managing agent 4-5 times a day EVERY DAY for the whole of January asking for this management pack. Sometimes they didn't even answer the phone. Not easy when you're also trying to research alternative venues for a regional workshop in Asia and trying to follow FCO travel advice about the changing political situation. But anyway....
Having agreed to a completion date of Friday January 31st, I had a removal van booked on Sunday February 2nd (the last weekend I could physically move in before flying to Bangkok the following weekend). The seller had agreed to fly over from Ireland and move her furniture out of the flat on Thursday 30th, so on a rainy Friday when South Western trains also decided to cancel all their trains into London, I set off from Richmond to Balham on the 337 bus in the (vague) hope that we would be able to exchange and complete and I would have the keys in my hand by the end of the day. What I wasn't quite prepared for was the removal van parked outside the flat (that was meant to be emptied the day before) with the owner herself still inside. Joined by Mum and my godmother Gill for moral support, we camped out in the coffee shop opposite, watching the whole process unfold with half an eye on the clock for the countdown to the end of the banking day. Unsurprisingly, with sofas still coming down the stairs at 3:30pm and still no management pack in sight, by 4pm we were back at the estate agents ready for a large G&T. Estate agents should have this on tap by the way. Far more useful than those fancy coffee machines and posh fizzy water in big glass fridges.
The only silver lining of the above situation was that the seller had not only agreed to hand in her keys to the estate agents before her flight back to Ireland, but also agreed (in writing, before you all think I'm that daft) to let me move my furniture/boxes in over the weekend as planned. So on Sunday February 2nd I drove up to London from Kent with the removals van and officially became a squatter until we were due to finally exchange and complete the following week. That didn't happen either. Obviously.
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| Fabian (my eight year old nephew) being helpful... |
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| And not so helpful... |
So that brings us back to the beginning of this story - getting on a plane to Bangkok with all my worldly possessions locked up in a flat I didn't yet own. With the UK working day starting just as the Thai working day was ending, I spent most of my evenings in Bangkok, emailing and on the phone to solicitors, managing agents and estate agents. Then on Wednesday February 19th, 2 hours before my mortgage offer (of sixteen weeks!) expired and 5 months (to the day) after my offer was accepted, I got THE call from my solicitor to say it had all gone through - simultaneous exchange/completion. Phew.
So I'm writing this in my new little home. I'm still waiting for someone to knock on my door and tell me something's gone wrong and it's not mine after all but with every lightbulb I change, picture I hang and meal I cook it feels more and more like the home I've been waiting (far more than 5 months) for. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I know I've been an absent friend for most of 2014. But I'm looking forward to getting myself some chairs so I can have people round for dinner and set up on skype so I can catch up with those of you who can't just pop round. I'll give you the grand (as grand as 30 sq metres can be) tour through my laptop....
I just have to finish this rambling with the hugest thank you to some very patient people who I've bored with my tales of seller ignorance, managing agent incompetence, removals angst and mortgage timeline worries. You said the right things at the right time, and if in doubt provided me with wine/coffee/a hug/McDonalds (again at the right time). You know who you are.
