The diary of a renovation: Chapter 3, Moving on
And another that got away…
Following the disappointment of not winning the sealed bid for Goose Green, we continued our search. Unusually for our favoured village, three more character-filled properties came on the market in the autumn of 2022.
The first was ancient and quirky, and much larger inside than it appeared from the street. However, the garden, a north facing postage stamp, was disappointing and we knew it would not satisfy our green fingers or Richard’s love of cooking up a storm on the barbecue for family and friends. The house needed a lot of work and had the benefit of planning permission, though we would have wanted to get these amended to iron out some anomalies - including a tiny kitchen and an extension that would render the garden even smaller. Being listed, this would entail a lengthy planning process and personal contact with the conservation officer, whose fearsome reputation went before her.
The second house was an old filling station from the time that all villages had their own petrol pumps. All that was left to signal this stage in its history was a large underground fuel tank, which would have to be removed. The thought of possibly having to remediate the land surrounding it set alarm bells ringing - a relatively low-priced job could escalate to tens or even hundreds of thousands, and there would be no way of telling which end of the spectrum it would end up on until the work had begun. It had a lovely garden though, and the added benefit of a well-kitted out annexe - which was actually a lot nicer than the house itself. Another quirky building, its flow was pinched and an ill-conceived. A huge bathroom without any natural light took up what was once a generous, light-filled landing, and access to one of the bedrooms was through the principal bedroom. It would all take a lot of effort and cash to sort out and, although not listed, being in a conservation area there were bound to be many hoops to jump through. And in any case, we did not love it.
The third house was a lot more promising. Although it was relatively modern, at least in appearance, a well-worn and well-hidden Blue Lias floor seemed to indicate a much older building inside. What got me more excited though was the two-acre garden backing onto stunning AONB countryside. There was even a tennis court, though the last time I had hit a tennis ball, Virginia Wade was on the circuit! Like the others, it needed work, but nothing like the amount that Goose Green would have warranted - and, oh blessing of blessings! - it wasn’t listed. Although we didn’t love it quite as much as Goose Green, it ticked most of our boxes and so we decided to put in an offer.
With a sense of déja-vu, we were given the news that we would, once again, have to enter the fray and compete if we wanted this house; the appetite for village houses with uplift potential was apparently bottomless! Having done it once, at least we were au fait with the process and so we agreed we would once again try our luck with the sealed bid process.
We sent our letter to the agent (not the same one as before), and waited. And a few days later, back came the response - alas, with what was beginning to feel like wearisome repetition, we were pipped at the post for a second time. The lack of either transparency or the ability to compete openly, a relic from times gone by, was galling. I was a Realtor in North America for ten years, and this sort of thing would never have happened there – you knew where you stood at all times. One of many reasons I decided never to become an estate agent in England!
Then something rather strange and unexpected happened…
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