I’m attempting to buy a modest property in Hackney E5. Lower E5. I missed the boat on E8. I’ve been looking for about a year, but at different levels. Realised my level now. It’s not that high frankly. Spent too much on suits, shoes and cabs in the past perhaps.
Mainly dealing with joke estate agents. One has to build up a relationship in order to get offered places before they go on the website. Fell out with ‘Hovels Are Us’ on a point of punctuality the other week, aggravated by them only having one email account for an entire office. Perhaps they give them out in the morning like paper post. I’ve also strained an association with a big firm having placed multiple offers on different places. Put in dead low offer in order to rule a place out that not 100% over, which they duly accepted, and simultaneously on another place pending advice from best pal. They took it too, but pal didn’t approve. There was talk of a place in Down’s Road I really fancied, and enquired about putting an offer/option in before they’d shown anyone, or got the tenants out. You can’t do that it seems. (Wondered about going round to view it posing as undercover police with my mate. Could get the first offer in then perhaps). Got a call from the main woman to ask what my intensions were, as she had two vendors with offers and there was me asking about a third. It’s apparently not the done thing. It transpires you’re only supposed to make offers when actually prepared to buy the place. I’ve been treating offers more like a firm enquiries, or like an option on a model you’re considering for a shoot. You can do that as much as you like and no one moans. That particular firm have gone quiet on me.
Meanwhile one of my ‘strongest’ relationships is with Shafiq. He suffers from what I think must be estate agent Tourettes. He’s compelled to blurt out words like ‘mezzanine’ or ‘sash windows’ at entirely in appropriate moments. He proudly declared a garden north facing this week as a positive. Any positive he repeats many times as we leave the property, as if to sum up and somehow hypnotise me. He wears a suit with shoes that turn upwards. His Kangol flat cap is so big his ears fit inside it, and he has a girls bum. When I follow him to properties he drives his Mini as if we’re in a race. Like a child might. Shafiq’s my main man at the moment. I think I might try prayer too.