Home sweet home
Buying a house is no joke. Especially in a new country, especially with agents who try to show the worst ones first, especially with a husband who feels he is compelled to come along for the drive to look at the houses and give an opinion!!
After living in the UK for a few years in rented houses, my husband and I decided to grow roots and stay put in our own home! It took some brainwashing and convincing from the bankers to prove that this is a better investment than giving rent and also the rate of interest the banks gives us are appalling.
So, we decided to give it a shot and started looking around. Newspapers and local real estate agents came to our help. Phrases like, ‘A stunning semi-detached....’ ‘An immaculate 4 bedroom’, ‘A brand new delightful property’, excellent access to the station....’ led us nowhere.
Disappointed, we turned our heads towards Wembley, an area in North-West London. We thought it would be grand to live in an area where we will have Indian friends, Indian food and Tamil/Hindi DVD shops nearby. Came the first appointment to see a house there, we met up with the agent, a Punjabi , who took us in his car, through the crammed roads, full of Indian bazaars, sari shops, people jay-walking like in India with no respect for the rules. I wonder why that is so, once they feel at home, people start to disregard rules and regulations they would otherwise follow elsewhere. Anyway, finally we reached our destination, a beautiful house, with massive gardens facing, facing a cemetery!!!
I refused to get off the car; I did not want a daily reminder of my final resting place. The agent got upset and said he will show another house close-by. So again, we took off and reached another house. Very cute and cosy, very Victorian type terraced house. As I started to get excited, I could feel the floor and windows shudder as the Jubilee underground train from London, rattled through the back yard. Out we ran, into our car and headed for a much need lunch and hot chai. We were spoilt for choice, to choose between Guajarati, South-Indian or Punjabi food. After a nice meal anyway, we returned home and geared ourselves for another trip next weekend.
Next Saturday, we woke up to another gloomy grey day. Anyway, with our appointments fixed, we headed back to Wembley to meet yet another agent. The houses he showed were a let-down too. One funnily enough, had an old fashioned toilet with a chain for flush; I felt I was in an Indian train!!!Another had pipes running around the kitchen and was not concealed. Another new house, had paper-thin plasterboard walls, I would have no use for hammer if I had bought that house. So, it went on for a couple of more weeks in different areas until I got this call from a local agent who said this property has come up fresh in market, would I care to take a look.
Presto, it was love at first sight, it had more than what I needed, with a lovely conservatory, mature garden, extra bedroom for guests and a lovely big kitchen. I needed no second thoughts, but for some reason my husband had to look at it 3 times, before he even realised it had everything we needed and more. After a few nail-biting months, the house became our home and is open to all our friends and family all through the year!!!!
Our home
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