Individual house thread

[spygirl]

44 minutes ago, Democorruptcy said:

25% shared equity and probably has eye watering annual fees. No purchase made.

 

7 minutes ago, One percent said:

Ah. I didn’t read the small print. Why would you do that if over 55?

Well .... 

15/10/2001	£39,500	17 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
03/10/2001	£39,900	11 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
03/08/2001	£39,900	27 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
25/06/2001	£39,900	41 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
01/06/2001	£39,200	37 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
17/11/2000	£38,500	7 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
27/09/2000	£39,900	23 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
21/07/1999	£39,900	61 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
07/01/1999	£39,990	81 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
08/05/1998	£39,200	19 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
15/08/1997	£38,500	49 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
30/05/1997	£38,500	51 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG
28/05/1997	£38,500	47 Danes Dyke, Scarborough, YO12 6UG

Wont be logn befoer Scabbies back to late 90s prices.

Been stuck at ~2004 prices since 2008.

 

[Democorruptcy]

25 minutes ago, One percent said:

Ah. I didn’t read the small print. Why would you do that if over 55?

Maybe downsizing, so you have some money left over to pay a few years rent on the non owned part, council tax, heating and food before a pension kicks in? It at least offers security of tenure unlike a private rental.

[Caravan Monster]

On 04/03/2023 at 09:20, spygirl said:

Ill cut n paste all this, as its a few months ago and is fish n chip wrapper now ....

Lucy Kellaway was a diviersity hire at the FT, who wrote about work. Bit like a HR writes ...

I swerved her columns as its the pointless diversity filla that filled he paper starting about 15y ago.

Anyhow she quit journo ~7 years ago and became a teacher. Now shes quit London and ...

My bolds.

 

Is there life after London? Why I left the city after 63 years

What possessed Lucy Kellaway, a self-confessed ‘caricature Londoner’, to move to northern England?

https://www.ft.com/content/1af48b96-5fa4-4169-b37f-d39ade0f77a3

On April Fool’s Day this year, I got into the car — along with some dried flowers, a bentwood hatstand and various other things too fragile to entrust to the cheap removal company that was transporting the rest of my belongings — and left London, where I had lived for 63 years.

My son was at the wheel. He had offered to drive me 300 miles to the suburb of Newcastle that is now my home because he feared I was in such a volatile mental state I was not safe on the road.

Five hours later, we passed through stone gateposts, round a circular driveway and parked in front of a house in which 15 square-paned windows blazed with light in the dusk.

No way, said my son, taking in the scale of it. No way.

It might have been spring but the temperature outside was minus one and inside, despite the fire that my partner, who’d arrived the day before, had lit in the medieval fireplace, it was so cold my breath rose in a cloud towards the chandelier above my head.

Taken later that evening is a photo of me, standing in front of one of the full-length windows in the empty drawing room, still in my overcoat and holding a glass of prosecco. The look on my face is one of sheer triumph.

There have been many property love affairs in my life, but this is the wildest — and by far the most dangerous.

It started, as these things always do, with me, with property pornography. Modern House used to be my staple, and indeed the last place I fell for was a place in east London made of wood that I bought seven years ago through the site. But when, a couple of years ago, Modern House branched out into Inigo, with the same delectable aesthetic but substituting Georgian fireplaces for polished concrete, I branched out with it.

One day, when scrolling through its historic houses, I came across a picture that made me stop. I don’t know if was the bottle green damask wallpaper. Or the mighty fireplace, or the stone flags, or the white columns or the giant glass chandelier, or all of it together.

Further pictures were equally astonishing: a baroque staircase; scrolled wainscoting; a kitchen whose sole nod to modernity was a Habitat lampshade from the 1970s; and a garden with a stone balustrade over which towered the spire of a 13th-century church. It’s a scene from Trollope, said my sister, when I showed her the garden photo.

The text explained this was a former bishop’s palace built on a medieval core by Lord Crewe in the early 18th century. The story has it that he displeased Queen Anne so severely with the grandeur of his building plans that she scrapped the title prince bishop. His crest, with lion and mitre, sits above the front door with his motto, Non Nobis, and the date: 1709.

Apart from the above, the other thing to catch my eye was the price — you got all this for considerably less than the value of my home in Hackney, which is little more than a commodious garden shed.

Let’s go and have a look, I said to my partner. I am such a caricature Londoner I could barely tell you which was further north: Leicester or Hull. I had never been to Newcastle, though had admired the bridges over the Tyne from a train window en route to Edinburgh. Obviously, we weren’t actually going to buy it, but it would be an interesting day out.

The short cab ride from the station took us through a suburban sprawl of car showrooms, cement works and gyratory systems, which abruptly stopped — and there was a village green and gates.

Some 45 years earlier an architect, a therapist and their three children went through the same gates to view the place. It was empty and derelict and being sold off by the church for £17,000. They bought it, divided it in two, kept the larger half and set about restoring it on a grant but otherwise on a shoestring.

After nearly half a century of tinkering, living and working in the house, the owners died there last summer, and their adult children — one of whom was at the door to greet us — were selling it.

Inside, the place was more quirky, tattier and altogether more approachable than it seemed in the pictures. Although the staircase was built to be wide enough for the very portly Lord Crewe to be carried up on a sedan chair by two servants, its frayed grey carpet was sufficiently unintimidating to invite modern visitors to go up and down in the regular fashion. Everywhere was slightly broken antique furniture, books and large canvases painted by the owner. In its spartan charm it was a bit like the place where I grew up in London, only more original, more beautiful — and five times the size.

That first day we spent nearly three hours wandering, slack-jawed, from huge room to huge room. As we left I scooped up my pink leather gloves from the dresser in the hall — but when I looked in my bag a nearly identical pair were lurking at the bottom. It turned out the first pair had belonged to the departed lady of the house and had been left there awaiting a return that wasn’t going to happen.

I am not temperamentally inclined to believe in fate. But I couldn’t help but entertain the thought: was the place somehow choosing us?

Over the next couple of weeks, we wrote lists of pros and cons. At the top of the first was beauty — followed by restoration project. We’d spent much of lockdown cheerfully engaged in DIY: this was the project to end all projects. Then there was the adventure of it all. It would mean finding a school in Gateshead to teach in — which, at the very least, would be interesting — new people and new places. How thrilling, I thought, to ditch the metropolitan elite for a new set of Geordie friends. How equally exciting to walk the North Pennines, swim on the Northumberland coast and explore Newcastle itself.

And if this wasn’t enough inducement, there was the matter of five sumptuous if moth-eaten pairs of curtains. A friend had just taken possession of an apartment with 14ft ceilings and was throwing out interlined drapes in embroidered silk and toile de Jouy — all a bit ripped but not beyond repair. Would you like them, she asked. You bet I would, I said. I just need a palace to hang them in.

Against these significant advantages I’d written the following list of cons. 1. Won’t see children or friends. 2. Astronomical maintenance and heating costs (and this was last October, before Putin invaded Ukraine). 3. Impossible to resell as we seemed the only people interested in buying it. 4. Once a Londoner, always a Londoner.

Against each I’d added mitigating factors. 1. London was less than three hours by train and, if friends didn’t visit, lockdown had proved they remained friends even without frequent sightings. 2. The answer to cold is long johns, jumpers, wood fires and overcoats hung by doors to wear up to bed. 3. As for selling it, surely someone else would respond to its magic just as we had? The thing that gave me most pause was con number 4 — could I really leave London?

But then I reasoned that lockdown had lessened my love for the place, and the only way of figuring out if a happy life were possible elsewhere was to give it a go.

In my head I went to and fro, waking every morning at 5am in a turmoil of uncertainty. Eventually, to end the dithering, I put in an offer and wrote a letter to the sellers explaining how much we loved the house and how we would like to buy it complete with contents. I knew the melancholy business of sifting through parents’ stuff after their death. No need, I told them. Our own furniture would barely fill a single supersized room and so we’d be grateful for everything. We’d even eat the groceries in the cupboards. They thought about it for a week and then they said yes.

The process took four months, during which time my feet got very cold, both metaphorically and literally. One grey afternoon in January we went up for the day so that my partner, who is also an architect and understands these things, could spend an afternoon in the attic with a torch investigating the progress of the deathwatch beetle.

Meanwhile, I trudged from one large room to another shivering. The house, whose rudimentary heating had been turned off, leaving it cold as a church, was dark too. All the main rooms face east and by 2pm were gloomy and forbidding. What decadence, I thought. What folly. What would two sixtysomethings, who should be downsizing, want with 5,000 square feet of space so many miles from home?

Instead of pulling out, I drugged myself with curtain mending and long sessions on Instagram. I followed every interior designer of old properties that I could find. I saved folders of pictures of kitchens with ancient Agas and stone floors, of pantries lined with jam jars and green wellies.

I now look back on that virtual decorating with amusement. I have not used a single idea from my obsessive scrolling. In a note we found written by the previous owner: “You can’t live here like in a normal house. You have to let the house dictate.

” That is exactly what is happening. There is a cellar that runs the length of the house piled floor to ceiling with the junk of 45 years — possibly of 300. Lord Crewe was said to own a few Canalettos and so I’m rather hoping to find one hiding under miscellaneous boxes of cooker switches and rusted jars containing 2003 runner bean chutney. But in the absence of masterpieces, the cellar is yielding up all sorts of booty — serving as an anarchic and thoroughly idiosyncratic alternative to B&Q.

Need to improve the bathroom? Here’s a large Victorian wash basin lurking under a pile of plastic piping. Want to fix a clapped-out chest of drawers? Here’s a box of tarnished brass handles in a rusty tin. Paint? Take your pick. Who needs Farrow & Ball when you have a couple of hundred cans of paint through the ages to choose from?

Equally, who needs wallpaper, when you come upon some decent charcoal life drawings as well as a large collection of art posters from the 1970s? It took me about five minutes to decide what to do with all this. Before you could say knife, I was up a ladder with some ancient wallpaper glue found in the cellar and was pasting Toulouse Lautrec posters to the walls of our new project’s rooms.

It often occurs to me that although I now own a bishop’s palace, I live the life of a scullery maid/navvy, forever on my knees or up a ladder, sweeping grates, painting, sanding, digging and weeding. Some of the work we are buying in — repairing the lead guttering is beyond us — but mostly we are doing it ourselves.

At some point before he died, the architect said to his sons: don’t let whoever buys this house fuck it up. His wife felt the same — her nightmare was a marble island in her lovely kitchen.

Our aim, then, is clear. It is to do zero fucking up. We have taken on one of the last houses in the nation not to have been ruined by money and modernisers. We are going to continue to hold the line.

As I write, I’m interrupted by a dull thud. My partner has discovered medieval ceiling beams in the bathroom above a more recent suspended ceiling. Oops, another section of plaster must have come crashing down — but the sound is muffled as the walls are so thick. Indeed, my sister’s housewarming gift of a school playground bell to summon people to dinner has been almost entirely useless — in this house you can’t hear a thing.

Despite the joy of the project so far, it is far too early to declare the move a success. DIY is all very well, but we don’t want to be forever property tourists up north, we need to transplant ourselves in this far-off land. So far that hasn’t happened — partly because until the end of July I was commuting to my school in London to see my students through to the end of the school year.

Next week I start a new job teaching in a comprehensive in a neighbouring suburb and from that moment will live here properly. I hope I will make local teaching friends and, through my students, will start to understand better the place where I live. To get me in the mood my younger son has bought me a Newcastle United football shirt, which I plan to wear over my painting overalls when my new team is playing.

Meanwhile I’m setting out to make new friends in a shameless, brazen way as it seems to me I have little to lose. The other day we went to visit a garden that was open to the public and I took a fancy both to the beautiful plants and their owner, who I decided to issue with an open invitation to visit our ¾ acre of ground elder.

She smiled and took down my number. For the next 24 hours I checked my phone repeatedly but nothing doing. I am a little dashed, but not excessively so.

She might not want to be my friend but, in time, I’ll find people who do.

Last night, after I had washed the building dust out of my hair and extracted some soil from under my fingernails, I looked back at the list of pros and cons. All seemed reasonable, but at the same time missed the point. What matters is that we have made a commitment to the place — to look after it as we try to build a life here. How long do you think you’ll stay, a friend asked when she visited last month. I have no idea, I said. Somewhere between two years and forever.

I know a family that lived in a similar if smaller vicarage (it's about 4x bigger than the manor house of the village). Absolutely stunning building, but it was so large that they only lived in the kitchen and a few well heated and furnished other rooms and didn't use most of it. The grounds and outbuildings were very useful for their business. Approaching retirement and old age, they built a modern house in the grounds and off loaded the gigantic building with a small plot to some mug from London for many multiples of what they paid for the whole lot in the eighties.

[spygirl]

52 minutes ago, One percent said:

Ah. I didn’t read the small print. Why would you do that if over 55?

Its a nice partof Scabby.

Imagine if you were living in Eastfields and wanted to get away from the turds and didnt need a lot of house.

 

 

[CVG]

This agent is new to the house selling malarkey and needs lessons on twigs, candles and letters.

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132439367#/?channel=RES_BUY

[Herby]

2 hours ago, CVG said:

This agent is new to the house selling malarkey and needs lessons on twigs, candles and letters.

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132439367#/?channel=RES_BUY

That is an awful agent I would sack immediately! The description is woesome. 

[spygirl]

Go on onsey, you want to ... dont you ......

@One percent

[No One]

Sorry gents, I had to post this. I was reading articles and found this gem. 

One of UK's most remote homes on side of iconic mountain just won't sell as price drops by £50k - Manchester Evening News

Originally I thought, oh they are selling a remote shit hole for 50k, I still dont want it. But no they reduced it by 50k, originally they wanted 300k ...

 

 

Quote

A former railway worker’s house across from the Settle to Carlisle route by Ribblehead, 3 Bleamoor Cottages is located on the main hiking path up Whernside. Those who are interested in viewing or living in the house must park at the Ribblehead Viaduct before walking up the path for 20 minutes as there’s no vehicle access.

READ MORE: The historic cobbled market town just off the M6 with "a bit of everything"

As Whernside is one of the Three Peaks, there is plenty of traffic passing by the house. The estate agents say it could be the perfect site for a bunkhouse or refreshment stop on the route, as well as a home.

However, the future buyer will have a lot of work on their hands as the building is currently in a poor condition and requires a lot of work to bring it up to standard. Photos of the interior show exposed brickwork and peeling wallpaper, as well as broken tiling and signs of damp.

....  Its a do-er upper      

 

Quote

This isolated property also lacks utilities and the previous owners had a windmill and a generator to power the property. Calor Gas was used for cooking and a septic tank was also put in place. Alongside these arrangements, water was transported via a trailer.

Despite all this, the stunning location of the home is plain for all to see. Surrounded by the natural beauty of the Yorkshire Dales, the view is second-to-none.

 

 

It's also a good spot for train enthusiasts and is located right next to the Blea Moor signal box, which is the most isolated signal box still operated by Network Rail. Fisher Hopper say "there is great potential here" for the "right buyer with vision.”

 

[JoeDavola]

Another beautiful Belfast semi at a knockdown price just waiting for someone to put their stamp on it:

https://www.propertypal.com/16-martinez-avenue-belfast/810589

Tempted @belfastchild @Malthus?

[eek]

Got to post this one - it's the old (Department of education(???)) offices in Darlo

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132308297#/?channel=RES_BUY

2 bedroom flat with share of freehold so the service charges shouldn't be that bad

Then look what they originally sold for....

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/house-prices/dl3-7pn.html

[eek]

3 minutes ago, JoeDavola said:

Another beautiful Belfast semi at a knockdown price just waiting for someone to put their stamp on it:

https://www.propertypal.com/16-martinez-avenue-belfast/810589

Tempted @belfastchild @Malthus?

I'm surprised the agent didn't say minor redecoration.

Blooming heck that's a dump.

[belfastchild]

1 minute ago, JoeDavola said:

Another beautiful Belfast semi at a knockdown price just waiting for someone to put their stamp on it:

https://www.propertypal.com/16-martinez-avenue-belfast/810589

Tempted @belfastchild @Malthus?

fuck me, just looked at the eaves in the first photo and thought the rest of it would be a shithole.

Have to love the basketball thing next door, fucking great craic that would be!

The best renovation for that would be a couple of kilos of semtex!

[JoeDavola]

1 minute ago, eek said:

I'm surprised the agent didn't say minor redecoration.

Blooming heck that's a dump.

It's so you can say you live on a posh sounding street.

On the plus side you I'm sure next door will let you play basketball with them in the shared front yard.

[JoeDavola]

1 minute ago, belfastchild said:

Have to love the basketball thing next door, fucking great craic that would be!

See above - great minds and all that.

Fucking idiots paying that much to live in the 'posh' street which in actual fact is just across the road from Orangefield where you could get a similar amount of space for £100K less.

[Malthus]

11 minutes ago, JoeDavola said:

Another beautiful Belfast semi at a knockdown price just waiting for someone to put their stamp on it:

https://www.propertypal.com/16-martinez-avenue-belfast/810589

Tempted @belfastchild @Malthus?

@JoeDavola

Clearly a typo , there is an extra zero on that asking price 🤣🤣

[One percent]

54 minutes ago, spygirl said:

Go on onsey, you want to ... dont you ......

@One percent

Go on then. You supply details of the restrictions. 
 

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132499043#/?channel=RES_BUY
 

nearly have a million quid for a basement hovel with loads of restrictions regarding use. Note, this price is just for the basement, not the whole house 

[spygirl]

9 minutes ago, One percent said:

Go on then. You supply details of the restrictions. 
 

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132499043#/?channel=RES_BUY
 

nearly have a million quid for a basement hovel with loads of restrictions regarding use. Note, this price is just for the basement, not the whole house 

https://www.thescarboroughnews.co.uk/news/politics/former-whitby-town-centre-shop-to-be-converted-into-holiday-let-3811382

Private patio - 

 

Busy FnC direcly opposite - 

 

Single lane, busy, pedaestrians n cars doign delvieries.

Plannint wont letanyone live in it FT - its a window less cupboard.

The planning wont let it let out for more than 28 days - to reduce disruption to people already in proper flats.

Oh, an rumorus that there a restictive covenat that bans lets ....

 

 

 

15 minutes ago, One percent said:

Go on then. You supply details of the restrictions. 
 

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132499043#/?channel=RES_BUY
 

nearly have a million quid for a basement hovel with loads of restrictions regarding use. Note, this price is just for the basement, not the whole house 

Window less basement ....

 

[One percent]

Just now, spygirl said:

https://www.thescarboroughnews.co.uk/news/politics/former-whitby-town-centre-shop-to-be-converted-into-holiday-let-3811382

Private patio - 

 

Busy FnC direcly opposite - 

 

Single lane, busy, pedaestrians n cars doign delvieries.

Plannint wont letanyone live in it FT - its a window less cupboard.

The planning wont let it let out for more than 28 days - to reduce disruption to people already in proper flats.

Oh, an rumorus that there a restictive covenat that bans lets ....

 

 

 

You forgot to mention that it is also attached to a pub where the smoggies get hammered before they catch the vomit rocket home. Piss and vomit all over your front door on a regular basis. 

[spygirl]

17 hours ago, No One said:

Sorry gents, I had to post this. I was reading articles and found this gem. 

One of UK's most remote homes on side of iconic mountain just won't sell as price drops by £50k - Manchester Evening News

Originally I thought, oh they are selling a remote shit hole for 50k, I still dont want it. But no they reduced it by 50k, originally they wanted 300k ...

 

 

....  Its a do-er upper      

 

 

Whats the broadband like?

Serously. No fuckign way am I going to live anyone without fast BB.

Then - does it have gas n leccy? Nope  ,deffo fuckit.

Then - does it have have mains water.

The last one might seem nuts but I know of quite a few people living in that pennine hinterland who dont have mains water.

Dont fancy cows piss in my tea.

 

 

[Bilbo]

Sorry it's an estate but plastic grass and only £550k.

Didn't think Portsmouth was so upcoming.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/article-11862873/The-new-build-estate-garden-home-carpeted-fake-grass.html

 

 

 

[MrXxxx]

On 13/03/2023 at 13:56, No One said:

Sorry gents, I had to post this. I was reading articles and found this gem. 

One of UK's most remote homes on side of iconic mountain just won't sell as price drops by £50k - Manchester Evening News

Originally I thought, oh they are selling a remote shit hole for 50k, I still dont want it. But no they reduced it by 50k, originally they wanted 300k ...

 

 

....  Its a do-er upper      

 

 

What made me laugh:

'As Whernside is one of the Three Peaks, there is plenty of traffic passing by the house. The estate agents say it could be the perfect site for a bunkhouse or refreshment stop on the route, as well as a home. '

So you have a £300k shell, you charge 'campers' to use your bunkhouse at £10 a night, to get a 5% yield [before expenses/tax etc] you would need 1500 person nights. Divide this between 12 months and you need 125/month or ~4 people per night every night....perhaps it should be marketed as "Perfect Covid lockdown business opportunity"!

[spygirl]

On 13/03/2023 at 14:39, One percent said:

Go on then. You supply details of the restrictions. 
 

https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/132499043#/?channel=RES_BUY
 

nearly have a million quid for a basement hovel with loads of restrictions regarding use. Note, this price is just for the basement, not the whole house 

Compared to -

https://www.thescarboroughnews.co.uk/lifestyle/homes-and-gardens/look-at-all-that-this-fabulous-village-property-with-stables-has-to-offer-4067474?fbclid=IwAR2IIgZ5wWssT8PrP5Xlf4Y6djNbdwDL8_XrwQ9UHzsQUUiBV3CINXYdgvQ

And it was windows!

 

[One percent]

41 minutes ago, spygirl said:

Compared to -

https://www.thescarboroughnews.co.uk/lifestyle/homes-and-gardens/look-at-all-that-this-fabulous-village-property-with-stables-has-to-offer-4067474?fbclid=IwAR2IIgZ5wWssT8PrP5Xlf4Y6djNbdwDL8_XrwQ9UHzsQUUiBV3CINXYdgvQ

And it was windows!

 

That’s a lot of property for the money. Wonder what the problem is. Next to a pikey site?  

[MrXxxx]

https://www.msn.com/en-gb/money/homeandproperty/britain-s-most-unwanted-home-has-been-on-the-market-for-14-years/ar-AA18VQEl?ocid=mailsignout&pc=U591&cvid=41e5c178a25c47bd939499d9f24d72a6&ei=50

"Well we're not going to give it away!" :-)))

[Bear Hug]

15 minutes ago, MrXxxx said:

https://www.msn.com/en-gb/money/homeandproperty/britain-s-most-unwanted-home-has-been-on-the-market-for-14-years/ar-AA18VQEl?ocid=mailsignout&pc=U591&cvid=41e5c178a25c47bd939499d9f24d72a6&ei=50

"Well we're not going to give it away!" :-)))

It's not even entire house! Just 1st floor flat