A phone call from Bill confirms something I suspect I have subconsciously known for twenty years or so: I do'nt need to trawl the web and bookshops looking for the causes of complexity in human societies because Nel and I ARE the cause of it. Or at the very least, magnets for the phenomena.
When we came to Hull, we declared loud and proud to anyone and everyone that a significant part of our new five year plan was to do nothing exciting for the next couple of years or so. A period of consolidation we grandly announced, time to put our house in order, buckle down, grow up, toe the line, do the right thing, circle the wagons and generally try to spend as much time as possible bored out of our skulls. We crossed the road to avoid interesting looking people, watched television for a week straight, and settled in. We even decided to eat bland, wholesome food. This part of the plan we called "The RoadMap to Peas". We also resolved that for at least a year we would avoid lawsuits, try not to spend more than $8000 per year on pet care, avoid hikes in bear-infested mountainous regions, and start as few new businesses as possible. In short, "situations" were to be avoided at all costs.
The decision to purchase a house fit perfectly with our plan, a mature, sensible decision, and given that we were not going to be part of a 'chain', it would be relatively straightforward. It was about 8.30pm last night as we were standing on the step of the house we thought we were buying, listening to the Estonian tenant describe in tearful, broken English how if she were to move out on December 19th as agreed, then she would have no-where to overwinter her 14 children, that I realized we had entered another situation. Naturally, for us at least, buying this house has become very complicated.
Perhaps the fact that the house was owned by a person, who it would compliment hugely to call a slum-lord, and was managed by a Property Management company (Gold's) who gave every appearance of being directly related to Tiverton's (at least judging by their professionalism) should have caused pause for thought, but despite difficulties gaining access we negotiated hard and agreed a goodish price. Conditions included that the place be free and clear of tenants, and was subject to the results of the survey. Emma gave the tenants two months notice, and we set about arranging a mortgage.
[Note: In England house buying follows the following process - viewing, negotiations/offer, acceptance of offer, arrange mortgage, get survey done, renegotiate(sometimes only), sign contracts, agree closing date. Up to the point of signing contracts the seller can pull out at any time. The survey costs money, (up to £700) as do legal necessities like a land search etc. (called conveyancing), so you can possibly spend a lot of money only to have the seller withdraw from your agreement - for example, they may receive a higher offer. ]
After we received the results of the survey(building inspection) we returned to the negotiating table, pointing out that the place was a fire-trap and we wanted a further reduction in price for re-wiring and safety checks on the gas heating system. Phone calls to the property manager's agent, Emma, on this issue received no response, so we e-mailed our new position. We were one phone call away from a deal, so were anxious to hear Emma's response.
Still no response from Emma, so Nosmo King, our legal rep, kindly called Gold's to find out what was going on. I was locking up at work in Leeds when NK called me with his findings. Emma had suffered a nervous breakdown, was now on long-term sick leave, and had failed to relay our most recent position to anyone at Gold's. Furthermore, Gold's owner, an unpallatable cove called Mr Gold, told Nosmo that they(Gold's) were NOT in the business of selling houses as anything other than investment property, and therefore had definitely NOT and never would, in the case of Ella Street, instructed the tenants to leave. The fact that we were in possession of letters from Mr Slum Lord's solicitors, and from Emma(issued prior to her breakdown) stating that notice to quit had been given was immaterial. NK staged a tactical withdrawal, and called me up with a cunning plan, simple in execution, imbued with a daring simplicity that cut through bureaucratic red tape like a Japanese Iaido Blade of the early 16th century.
NK's plan was that we should knock at the door of Ella Street and ask the tenants if they had been booted out. Under normal circumstances, I would not quail at such a plan - it made sense, it was straightforward, and it had an air of detectiveness that was romantically appealing. However, what Nosmo was unaware of was that the denizons of the joint seemed an unruly mob. Hard-core pornography wallpaper aside, there were at least two burly, hostile, excitable Eastern European teenagers and several unfriendly rug-rats that we had seen during our viewings. What would the parents be like?
Nevertheless, the scheme made sense and had to be risked, but care must be taken, I told Nel as we walked round the corner to "our" house. We should plan our Operation (Operation Tactful Approach) carefully. I informed Nel (codename Red Boffin Ivory Tower)that she should take up Recon A, a position someway down the road, from where she could call the police if I (codename Delta Mazzer One) got shot. I would take position ( Location Eagle Strike) by the entrance, and lead a frontal assault. Signals would be based on NATO conventions, and radio silence should be observed at all times. Nel listened politely, then walked up to the front door and knocked.
The lady of the house was tearful rather than threatening, and informed us that yes, maybe she had had a notice to quit, and no she was'nt going to do anything about it. How could she with 14 children? Besides which the Social Services were now withholding her welfare payments due to an earlier overpayment and she had no money for a new place. It was a tale that would have Right Wing newspapers writing outraged articles about immigrants abusing the British system, articles that their Slum Lord readership would fully agree with (just before making a note to themselves to ignore the Law reagrding statutory annual electrical safety checks once more). Nel just made sympathetic noises, and we apologized for trying to buy the house before retreating gracefully.
We reported back to NK, and the latest news is that he has tried to follow up with the sellers legal team, but at their offices the file has been passed on to Someone Else, and Someone Else is now off work, on sick leave.
So right now the situation is fluid. Tomorrow might bring more developments.
Showing posts with label buying a house in Hull. Show all posts
Showing posts with label buying a house in Hull. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 December 2007
Saturday, 1 December 2007
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. But first, the Ugly....
Quick snapshot of where our putative house purchase stands. Most of the pieces of the jigsaw seem to be in place - Messrs Aspinall and Wright have legalized, Messrs Elland Road Financial have financed, and Messrs Squeers and Co, the current owners, have set matters in motion to cast their tenants into the street in the week before Christmas.
A final item to be ticked is the survey, which is, as previously mentioned, the UK equivalent of the Home Inspection. This survey was apparently done this week, and we await it's results. If all goes smoothly, the album, may make a regular appearance here.
A final item to be ticked is the survey, which is, as previously mentioned, the UK equivalent of the Home Inspection. This survey was apparently done this week, and we await it's results. If all goes smoothly, the album, may make a regular appearance here.
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
New house
Joey Mac asked for more details of the house we have almost bought. I have not mentioned this in more detail because the sale is by no means complete. Yes we have made an offer on a property, and yes that offer has been accepted, and yes our mortgage application has been approved, but two possible deal breakers remain. Firstly, there is the approximately 146 Polish tenants who currently occupy the house. Our offer to buy includes that the tenants have to be out of the house before we finalize the deal. If the tenants are not gone, then we will not buy, and we have today been given a date of December 19th (note to self - must e-mail Bill) by the landlord's agents, so it could be a busy holiday period.
The second potential hiccough (or is hiccup correct ?) is the survey, which in the UK is a slightly more formal, and can be a more professional review of the structure, value and fabric of the building than in Canada. As those of you who are Canadian are aware, the Canadian housing inspector profession (UK equivalent is Surveyors) is woefully unregulated. In fact, my experience is that in Canada, a chimpanzee who has barely passed its' Nest Building Proficiency Badge can easily set up business as a Housing Inspector, and be flooded with work. The trading name of the most famous Housing Inspector Company in Halifax, NS is Inspector Clouseau, and that this company is named after a bungling idiot Detective who screwed up everything he touched is a fair reflection of the average skill level within the "profession". In this case, the name is not ironic.
Anyway, our survey is to be conducted shortly, and I expect that it will tell us that a new roof is required, that the house requires rewiring, and that there is damage caused by damp as a result of a leaky bay window. Again, if there are more serious structural problems we wil probably withdraw from the sale and absorb the costs to date. We want to buy a house which is in need of improvement, and do not mind serious improvements - in fact that's the whole idea. However, we will not get involved in re-building.
The house itself is a four bedroom mid-terrace, about 100 years old, small back yard, very badly maintained and the aforementioned tenants. Full pictures will be available if the sale proceeds to completion, but for now, we're just planning the cost of renovations. This is itself also not a wasted exercise if this house does not get purchased because we'll need the info that we're currently finding out at some point or other anyway.
Nel has pulled out of the purchase about 17 times (yesterday), while I am planning to have solar panels, a small wind turbine, rainwater collectors, ground source heat pumps and a living roof completed by December. Ah, the joys of half-empty/half full.
The second potential hiccough (or is hiccup correct ?) is the survey, which in the UK is a slightly more formal, and can be a more professional review of the structure, value and fabric of the building than in Canada. As those of you who are Canadian are aware, the Canadian housing inspector profession (UK equivalent is Surveyors) is woefully unregulated. In fact, my experience is that in Canada, a chimpanzee who has barely passed its' Nest Building Proficiency Badge can easily set up business as a Housing Inspector, and be flooded with work. The trading name of the most famous Housing Inspector Company in Halifax, NS is Inspector Clouseau, and that this company is named after a bungling idiot Detective who screwed up everything he touched is a fair reflection of the average skill level within the "profession". In this case, the name is not ironic.
Anyway, our survey is to be conducted shortly, and I expect that it will tell us that a new roof is required, that the house requires rewiring, and that there is damage caused by damp as a result of a leaky bay window. Again, if there are more serious structural problems we wil probably withdraw from the sale and absorb the costs to date. We want to buy a house which is in need of improvement, and do not mind serious improvements - in fact that's the whole idea. However, we will not get involved in re-building.
The house itself is a four bedroom mid-terrace, about 100 years old, small back yard, very badly maintained and the aforementioned tenants. Full pictures will be available if the sale proceeds to completion, but for now, we're just planning the cost of renovations. This is itself also not a wasted exercise if this house does not get purchased because we'll need the info that we're currently finding out at some point or other anyway.
Nel has pulled out of the purchase about 17 times (yesterday), while I am planning to have solar panels, a small wind turbine, rainwater collectors, ground source heat pumps and a living roof completed by December. Ah, the joys of half-empty/half full.
Friday, 19 October 2007
The Only Way is Up.....
Expressing it in millions does'nt really help. We have just offered a quarter of a million dollars for a practically derelict, possibly structurally unsound, small inner city terrace in the UK's second worst place to live. This is actually an improvement on the position if we'd have done the same thing last year, because since we've arrived, Hull has been elevated from the worst place to live in the UK to the second worst place to live in the UK.
Furthermore, the house has almost no garden, and sitting tenants in the form of a Polish family who could kibosh the whole deal if they decide not to move out. When we visit the house, the teenage sons of the household are at home, looking after their younger brothers. It is a touching, fraternal scene; THIS is what extended families are all about. With plaster falling off the walls, the elder brothers are guiding their younger siblings through a complicated computer game, in their bedroom, the walls of which are plastered in hard core porn. And no, Grasshopper, I do'nt mean pawn.
The realtor is refreshingly unlike any Canadian realtor we met. Where a Canadian realtor would tell us that the property needs some "TLC", Emma, our English professional tells me, "I hope you've brought a mask - the smell in here is terrible". She volunteers that the house is "completely run-down, a total mess", when a Canadian would emphasize it's "good bones". She tells me that the UK housing market is in meltdown, and that the seller, whom she represents, will be lucky to get the asking price. Michelle Zareski, the Canadian realtor who sold our house in Halifax is spinning in her hypothetical, future, grave. How, on Earth, asks hypothetical Michelle, can you deal in property in an honest and straightforward manner if you don't excessively flatter your clients and lie to them at every available opportunity?
Measurement of Hull's status is not, for once in this country, a matter of committee or stakeholder decided, but rather is based on a statistical analysis of conditions in all 434 municipalities in England, Scotland and Wales, using measurements of crime rates, unemployment rates, environmental factors, access to Health Care, Educational facilities and leisure activities. The stats are presented by a programme called "Relocation, Relocation", but after careful checking, they do correspond closely with an annual Government analysis, and are not just sensational televisual hype.
For those who did'nt watch the programme, excerpts are reproduced below, including the first excerpt which features the second BEST place to live in the country, Winchester. Te rest of the clips belong to Hull. Excuse the editing, I have not yet mastered this facilty, I just hope you get the general idea. The only explanatory comments I can add to the videos are that we live in "The Avenues" and they are pretty cool, that the beer is cheap(and it shows) and that regeneration in the UK seems to be ubiquitous. I just don't understand what the regeneration is based on, unless it is an endless loop of credit. A snake, which surely, must swallow it's own tail at some point. Incidentally, view the first video twice and take note of the cost of a one bedroom flat - £200,00 or $450,000. It makes our purchase look like a bargain.
Fortunately, for The Boffin and I, these statistics are, at the moment moot points, and largely irrelevant to our life. Hull's fortunes do not really impinge on our life in a significant way, apart from my necessary commute, but the roots of why I have to commute are so far in the past, (related to decisions I made in my twenties), that much as I want to, I cannot blame anyone but myself (and possibly Transpennine Express) for my commute. Anyway, having now both secured gainful employment, we are, for the moment well insulated from the realities of Hull.
For me at least, we have happy cats; a new, burgeoning career as a wordsmith; the Boffin's career is going well; we have some money to play with; good friends;we've sold the house in Canada; we have a Halloween Party to plan for AND we've sold our car in Canada without any penalty. For us, from here on in, things can only get better, and they were pretty good to begin with. Excuse the punctuation in this paragraph, I an unforgiveably unaware of the correct form.
Tomorrow may therefore see us in theoretical possession of a quarter million dollar house. Naturally, you are all invited to stay. Just do'nt scratch the wood floors.
Furthermore, the house has almost no garden, and sitting tenants in the form of a Polish family who could kibosh the whole deal if they decide not to move out. When we visit the house, the teenage sons of the household are at home, looking after their younger brothers. It is a touching, fraternal scene; THIS is what extended families are all about. With plaster falling off the walls, the elder brothers are guiding their younger siblings through a complicated computer game, in their bedroom, the walls of which are plastered in hard core porn. And no, Grasshopper, I do'nt mean pawn.
The realtor is refreshingly unlike any Canadian realtor we met. Where a Canadian realtor would tell us that the property needs some "TLC", Emma, our English professional tells me, "I hope you've brought a mask - the smell in here is terrible". She volunteers that the house is "completely run-down, a total mess", when a Canadian would emphasize it's "good bones". She tells me that the UK housing market is in meltdown, and that the seller, whom she represents, will be lucky to get the asking price. Michelle Zareski, the Canadian realtor who sold our house in Halifax is spinning in her hypothetical, future, grave. How, on Earth, asks hypothetical Michelle, can you deal in property in an honest and straightforward manner if you don't excessively flatter your clients and lie to them at every available opportunity?
Measurement of Hull's status is not, for once in this country, a matter of committee or stakeholder decided, but rather is based on a statistical analysis of conditions in all 434 municipalities in England, Scotland and Wales, using measurements of crime rates, unemployment rates, environmental factors, access to Health Care, Educational facilities and leisure activities. The stats are presented by a programme called "Relocation, Relocation", but after careful checking, they do correspond closely with an annual Government analysis, and are not just sensational televisual hype.
For those who did'nt watch the programme, excerpts are reproduced below, including the first excerpt which features the second BEST place to live in the country, Winchester. Te rest of the clips belong to Hull. Excuse the editing, I have not yet mastered this facilty, I just hope you get the general idea. The only explanatory comments I can add to the videos are that we live in "The Avenues" and they are pretty cool, that the beer is cheap(and it shows) and that regeneration in the UK seems to be ubiquitous. I just don't understand what the regeneration is based on, unless it is an endless loop of credit. A snake, which surely, must swallow it's own tail at some point. Incidentally, view the first video twice and take note of the cost of a one bedroom flat - £200,00 or $450,000. It makes our purchase look like a bargain.
Fortunately, for The Boffin and I, these statistics are, at the moment moot points, and largely irrelevant to our life. Hull's fortunes do not really impinge on our life in a significant way, apart from my necessary commute, but the roots of why I have to commute are so far in the past, (related to decisions I made in my twenties), that much as I want to, I cannot blame anyone but myself (and possibly Transpennine Express) for my commute. Anyway, having now both secured gainful employment, we are, for the moment well insulated from the realities of Hull.
For me at least, we have happy cats; a new, burgeoning career as a wordsmith; the Boffin's career is going well; we have some money to play with; good friends;we've sold the house in Canada; we have a Halloween Party to plan for AND we've sold our car in Canada without any penalty. For us, from here on in, things can only get better, and they were pretty good to begin with. Excuse the punctuation in this paragraph, I an unforgiveably unaware of the correct form.
Tomorrow may therefore see us in theoretical possession of a quarter million dollar house. Naturally, you are all invited to stay. Just do'nt scratch the wood floors.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
House hunting
Never people to allow little things like the search for a new vacuum cleaner belt, the impossibilities of public transport or our ongoing court case against the powers of Evil to distract us from making our life slightly more complicated we have plunged into house hunting. Or rather, Nel plunged yesterday, as my employment yet again intervened in weekend plans (with less than 12 hours notice requiring me to work very early on Saturday). Nevertheless a potential bargain has been identified, namely the house with the red door pictured above.
While this abode may or may not be purchased at some point in the future, we will end up with something similar to this or one of the houses featured in the album below.
The exterior of these houses represents the view that a Canadian visitor might expect as they arrive for a short visit. As may be apparent, directions would need to be very specific to the postulated visitor.
The interior of the houses which are in our price range is revealing, as we are looking for an affordable fixer-upper. In our search area, houses that have been fixed up are between 15% and 25% more expensive than the ones we are looking at. Most of the houses are low-income rental properties, and the interior condition of some is not only shabby, but also dirty. Nel took some photographs. Among these photographs is one that she took while trying to demonstrate some flaking plaster, but the photo which features a small boy could be a picture from one of the great photojournalist magazines.
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