Category: Property

I remember standing in a drafty hallway in a mid-Victorian terrace near Salisbury back in ’94, watching a young surveyor trip over a loose floorboard while he droned on about “comprehensive due diligence.” He was reading from a clipboard, completely missing the fact that the damp patch in the corner wasn’t just a bit of […]

I remember sitting in a drafty hallway in a mid-Victorian semi near Salisbury back in ’94, clutching a lukewarm cup of tea and watching the clock tick past four o’clock. I was waiting on a solicitor who had promised the searches would be back by Tuesday; it was now Friday, and the silence from their […]

I was standing in Arthur Miller’s garden last Tuesday—a lovely 1930s semi over by the old mill—watching him stare blankly at a pile of timber for a new summerhouse. He was convinced he’d need to hire a consultant and spend months arguing with the planning office just to put up a bit of wood and […]

I remember standing in a drafty kitchen in a mid-Victorian cottage near Chawton back in ’94, watching a young couple stare in horror at a rusted pump handle. They’d been sold on the “romantic charm” of the countryside, but they hadn’t been told that buying a house with a private water supply often means inheriting […]

I remember standing in the driveway of a lovely little flint cottage near Sevenhampton last autumn—built, I’m fairly certain, around 1890—watching a young couple walk through the front door with nothing but a look of pure, unadulterated hope. They had fallen head over heels for the mullioned windows, but they hadn’t done the groundwork. They […]

I was standing in a hallway in a lovely mid-century detached over in Chawton last Tuesday, watching a young couple walk through a property that had been “staged” to death. The place smelled of nothing but expensive lavender spray and looked like a showroom where nobody actually lived. It was all designer cushions and sterile […]

I was sitting in the back room of the Red Lion last Tuesday, listening to young Miller from down the lane lamenting his first house purchase, when it hit me just how much nonsense is floating around about the taxman. He was looking at some glossy brochure that made the whole process sound like a […]

I was sitting in the back of the village hall last Tuesday, listening to a young estate agent talk about “lifestyle branding” and “curated rural experiences,” and I nearly choked on my tea. They make it sound like selling a house in a village is all about staging the perfect sourdough breakfast on a reclaimed […]

I was out near the old mill stream last Tuesday, trying to patch up a section of dry stone wall that’s been leaning since the heavy rains in ’98, when I saw Arthur from the end of the lane staring pointedly at a new trellis. He wasn’t looking at the roses; he was looking at […]

I remember standing in the driveway of a lovely 1930s semi over in Upper Clatford during a particularly nasty spell of rain last November. The owner was clutching a glossy, printed insurance report like it was a holy relic, swearing the house was “low risk” because the official map said so. I just pointed toward […]