Here we all are still in our little flat by the sea. It’s becoming a little bit tedious now to be honest. A couple of weeks of ‘let’s pretend we’re on holiday’ has turned into long and pointless days of ‘Let’s go out and spend more money we can’t afford in order to get out of this flat.’

The property buying process in this country is absolutely ludicrous. It seems to be purposely set up to cause as much stress and distress as possible. For non English readers: did you know that in this country nothing is binding after you have made an offer on a property until the very last minute and contracts have been signed? This process can take anything up to three months and contracts are usually signed the day before you move in? Ludicrous, eh?

In our case that has been two months since we put in the offer. In the interim period we (and by we I mean Boofuls, he’s been amazing getting this all moving forward) have paid for umpteen reports, made a gazillion phone calls, supplied information two or three times over, bought various indemnity insurances against things that everyone knows will never happen and through it al the seller could still say, “I’ve changed my mind” and just walk away.

An example of a recent day goes like this: We reached mortgage contract signing stage last Thursday. Our solicitor is in Lancashire, 300 miles away. Our mortgage provider is in Plymouth, about 30 miles away. Our solicitor wanted us to drive to Lancashire so he could witness us signing the document. WHAT?!?!

“Surely there’s a better way than this?” we wailed.

“Well, you can get a local solicitor to witness it. I’ll have the document sent to me here in Lancashire, I’ll read it, send it to a solicitor in Devon, you can go there and sign it, then it will come back to me in Lancashire and I’ll send it back to Plymouth. That’ll be £600, please.”

Boofuls phoned our mortgage provider in Plymouth: “Can we come direct to your offices and sign it?” “We’ll phone you right back”, they said.

We got an email within five minutes from our solicitor.”Please refrain from contacting the mortgage providers solicitor, it’s upsetting for them.”

Again: WHAAAAT?!?!

By this time my migraine was throbbing away nicely and the tears were falling like a river. Boofuls saved the day.

He phoned our mortgage broker, 5 minutes away: “Pete, we have to drive to Lancashire to sign this contract.”

“WHAAAAT?!?! No you don’t. It doesn’t have to be a solicitor who witnesses it. Just a responsible person. That’ll be me. I’ll phone the mortgage providers solicitor and double check it’s ok.”

Two minutes later: “It’s ok. Pop into my office later today, I’ll have it emailed across and ready for you.”

Our solicitor: “WHAAAAT?!? You can’t do that. I’d have to read it, it’s 20 pages long.  That will take me till tomorrow. DON’T SIGN IT!!”

We signed it. With the caveat that it wasn’t posted back until the solicitor had read it. Guess what? It was fine.

So. Mortgage contract sorted. Next: property contract and completion.

Boofuls phoned the seller: “We’re almost ready, the contracts will be exchanged today, we can complete Friday?

Our seller: “Ooh no, we don’t want to complete Friday. We don’t want to move out till at least Monday, we’ve got a big night out on Friday. The wife’s upset, she’s not ready to move”


Remember I said at the beginning the seller can change their mind right up to the last minute?

Back on the phone to our solicitor. “Get that contract completed and returned pronto, we have a feeling the seller is going to pull out.”

Then started the tense wait to see what happened first, the seller pulling out or the contracts being exchanged.

I went for a bath to settle my jangling nerves and to avoid flooding the flat with my tears. I mean, the last thing we need is a bill for water damage to the carpet.

Boofuls came to talk to me while I wallowed in warm, bubbly, scented water. Actually, we were arguing but that’s irrelevant. It did kind of negate the benefit of my bath though.

Munki knocked on the door. ” I need a poo.”  Boofuls told her to go upstairs to her own flat and have a poo there.

Half an hour later, Lashes came down to see us, grinning all over her face.

“I see you two are a lot happier.”

Still grinning.

Munki came up and said. Nanny and Grandad are having a secret conversation in the bathroom.  Now half an hour later here I am and you’re both in a much better mood and smiling again. Good ‘conversation’ was it?

Hahaa. Trust Munki to cheer everyone up!

So that was our Thursday, how was yours?



12 thoughts on “WHAAT?!?”

    1. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever done. Poor old Boofuls has been constantly on the phone for days. It’s a totally different system in Scotland. Once you’ve made an offer there it’s legally binding. Much better

      1. I believe he will. We moved into our hotel today so no chance of him resting it now and to be honest that’s what it really needs Thanks for asking. That was nice of you.

  1. So glad you’re safely in! 🙂 I sometimes think the modern world is designed to drive us all insane. I’m currently sitting in a phone queue trying to sort my broadband which keeps cutting out –

    1. You can’t beat a good old phone queue to get the blood boiling – except of course when you’ve been on the phone for ten minutes only to find our you’ve been put through to the wrong person. I feel for ya! Hope it got sorted. On a totally unrelated note: Have we seen ‘the hat’ picture yet?

      1. How about waiting 10 minutes in a phone queue and finally getting through, only to be told the fire alarm is going off in the call centre and they all have to leave the building, so can they call you back? An engineer did come out eventually, but by then the wind had dropped so he couldn’t identify the fault – they are ‘leaving the job open’ and coming to try again next week. In the meantime, I’ll just have to hope the wind stays away.
        As for The Hat, yes, it features in my latest post 😉

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