It was this very week in 2008 that I moved into my current house, having taken a rental agreement on the property and hastily moving up belongings from the house in Liverpool.
Of course, I say “I” now, but back then it was very much “we”, with myself, Fliss and nearly 3 year old Elisha setting up home again as a family. In the six months since I’d made the decision to take a job back in Scotland, we’d been in a state of limbo making do with living part-time in the Liverpool house or cramming into the spare room at my parents’ place.
The old naval estate house in Graham Place felt spacious – bigger than our house in Liverpool, for sure. I considered it a good placeholder at the time. Something that would do to get us all back together but not somewhere I saw myself living long term before I was back on the property ladder.
Somehow, ten years have flown by and a lot of change with it. What I couldn’t have known back then was what an emotional rollercoaster it would turn out to be.
It’s almost six years since we bought our house in Liverpool, possibly paying above the odds but content we’d got what we wanted despite being so late to climb onto the property ladder. The feeling of opening the door of your own house for the first time is electric, and it was made all the more special by the card and bottle of wine left for us by the previous owner.
Nice of her to do that, but then she had made £45,000 on it in just four years due to the boom. Being realistic we knew the property market had already levelled out by the time we bought, but figured it would still be a good long term investment. Property always is, they tell you.
“Scotland is the only part of the UK where house prices are continuing to rise, figures suggest.”
That’s just not what we needed right now. 😐
Trying to sell the house in Liverpool looks like it’s going to be tough enough without the prices north of the border continuing to creep upwards. Looks like we’ll end up paying so much more to get so much less than we started with.