home owner

Victorian House Hunting!

I last wrote in March about how uneasy I was feeling about my life. It’s amazing how quickly things can change.

Tomorrow, I turn 31 and on Saturday I’m taking my other half to view a house that I’ve fallen in love with. It’s a beautiful (yet slightly dilapidated) Victorian Terrace in a village and is full of potential for our first home project.

I’ve written previously about my passion for history and my biggest obsession in life has been wanting to buy a Victorian house and restore its original features like fireplaces and open fires, sash windows and corbels etc.

Luckily for me, my partner in crime hates new build houses as much as I do, so we quickly agreed we wanted to buy a period property and do it up in the style we like. We settled on a Victorian terrace. My Grandparents owned a Victorian end-of-terrace in Liverpool and we visited them during my childhood. I can still remember the high ceilings, big rooms, beautiful wooden banister, the red carpet running up the stairs with stair rods, the stained glass porch and the bakelite light switches. From the age of around 8 I fell in love with that old, dilapidated house and I’ve been determined to own something so beautiful myself.

With that in mind, we started house hunting only a few months ago, and in the space of around 2 weeks we viewed 11 properties of varying states of undress (!). The first Victorian house we saw had a 200 foot garden, which had such amazing potential, especially for us, as we’re keen to get green fingered and I’m something of a Hedgewitch. Unfortunately, the house (or cottage!) itself was “compact and bijou”, in need of an awful lot of TLC and the kitchen was the smallest kitchen I’ve ever seen with the lowest ceiling I’ve ever seen! Suffice to say, we let someone else take a punt on that house!

Next came another Victorian terrace that had been refurbished upstairs but not downstairs so the 1970s kitchen was in desperate need of being ripped out and started again, with a more age-appropriate kitchen. The road it was on was unbelievably claustrophobic, so that was a no from me.

We then went to view 2 properties a few doors down from each other. Both were previous HMOs (houses in multiple occupation) and were damp as f*ck. There’s no way we could afford to sort out the damp and have enough money to make the house liveable in. So they were instant nos.

It’s actually incredible how fast you learn when you’re thrown into the deep end of a project. I’ve never lived anywhere other than in my parents council house – it’s a terraced house built in the mid to late 70s and structurally, we don’t do any maintenance to it as it’s not our responsibility. So, looking at Victorian buildings with absolutely no experience in home owning/building has been a very steep learning curve already.
I’ve spent many hours researching how to renovate old buildings, and together, we have built quite an arsenal of knowledge over the past couple of months. I’m actually rather proud of myself – I’ve spoken to mortgage advisors, estate agents and the like, and I’d never done anything so grown up in my life. I definitely feel like I’ve achieved so much personally, already.

Knowing what we know, we’ve narrowed down our search radius to two areas of a town we want to live in. We’ve excluded ‘rougher’ areas from our search as we’re in the mind of buying a ‘shit house, in a decent area’ and making it nice. Postcode means a lot to us.

I have to say, I have, at this stage, fallen in love with a house. It’s everything I want (even if the garden is a little smaller than I’d like, it has potential to be really cute) and I can really imagine us living there together, as a family. I can already see what I could physically add to the house (stripping and painting architraves for example) and I can see the wallpaper I’ve chosen on the walls and the fireplaces opened up and restored with open fireplaces and wood burning stoves. It’s in a beautiful village on a beautiful street of Victorian terraces that all look loved and cared for…

The Big But…

Unfortunately for us, I can say with absolute certainty that this ‘dream house’ is also going to be the ‘dream house’ for many other house hunters. The house is for up for informal tender – this means that you view the house, then you write a ‘sealed bid’ – hand your sealed, secret offer into the estate agent for the vendor to then decide who they want to sell the house to. It’s a fair way of doing it, but still absolutely heartbreaking if our bid isn’t successful.

I know I shouldn’t put all my eggs into this one basket, but when you fall in love, you can’t stop it, you just have to go for it. So, we’re going for it. We have our deposit, our mortgage in principle and I’m so ready to start my new life with my incredible partner in crime.

I just hope with all I have, that this is the house for us. I’ll keep you posted x

*Disclaimer: Featured image subject to Copyright – the Victorian Emporium*

Sex, Travel and Antiques

This has been a topic of conversation among my peers for a while now. I’m hurtling towards the big 3-0 like nobodies business, whereas most of my friends are in their mid twenties but even though we’re not quite the same age, we all have the same decision to make eventually – to have children or to not have children.

For generations, society has dictated that when girls grow up, they become child bearers, mothers and wives. In more recent years, the ‘you can have it all’ movement gave way to women deciding to shun the typical route of getting married and having children instead to focus on being career women first and mothers second.

I am part of a group of women who have not only shunned society’s labels of wife and mother and career woman. I am simply ME.

At 29 years of age, I am at my childbearing peak. In a few years my eggs will start to dwindle and my chances of becoming pregnant get lower. But, for me, this isn’t an issue because I am consciously CHILD FREE. I do not want to have a baby, ever.

My Mother’s Mother wasn’t a maternal lady. She wasn’t a natural mother, but in the 50s, women had babies, that’s just what they did. My own Mother has said that she too didn’t have a maternal instinct (despite having myself and my elder sister) and if she had her time again, she probably wouldn’t have had children. I don’t blame her for saying that, I know how hard she has toiled bringing up my sister and I.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your stance, mental illness is a family issue for me – it’s in both sides of my family (thanks Mum, thanks Dad!) and I also have a physical (inherited) disability. Knowing that I have inherited these conditions really has made me consider how this may affect my own offspring.

Making the decision to not have children has been an incredibly easy decision for me. Mostly, because like my Mum and Grandma, I seem to have missed the ‘maternal instinct’ gene (if there is one). I see babies and I recoil. The noise they make sounds like nails down a chalk board and I hate bright colours. I hate everything to do with children – the tv shows, the Pixar movies, the nursery rhymes, the toilet training, the school run and most importantly, childbirth.

I have absolutely no interest in carrying a baby in my (poorly designed) body. Having an inheritable connective tissue disorder comes with its own problems so being pregnant whilst having EDS is no mean feat. I can’t run about like I’d need to with a child, I can barely hold my 1 year old Nephew for more than a minute before I’m in excrutiating pain, so physically I know I wouldn’t cope being a mother.

And most importantly for me, I’m too selfish. I love sex, travel and antiques. My partner and I are planning on restoring a Victorian house at some point in our future. You simply can’t do that and afford to pay for a child too. We’re both in our late twenties, I can’t work so we’d be relying on his salary. It’s just too much.

Thankfully, I’m with a man who, like me, has little interest in having his own offspring. He is a Primary School teacher, so loves to come home at the end of the day to peace and quiet. His job as a teacher is extremely fulfilling and he loves imprinting knowledge on the  young. Thankfully for me, we’re both on the same page when it comes to being child-free.

You may notice I use the term childfree rather than childless, because to me, I am free of children. I am not ‘less’ – if anything, I can be more than just a Mum. I’m not saying there is anything at all wrong with women who want to be Mums. I just know in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t born to bring a child into the world. I want to travel the world while I’m able to (my condition is degenerative), I want to buy luxurious sofas and thick carpets that aren’t going to have paint or pen trodden into them. I want bricks and mortar and to sit by the open fire with my (one day) husband and our cats.

To me, that is the best thing about being a twenty-something; I can choose who I want to be and so can you.

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Maybe one day…. but not yet….