So… onwards and upwards we go with our house-hunting.  We have finally given up on flats for the over 55’s, as we’re not quite ready to move into a complex housing residents who were 55 somewhere around the mid 1970’s.   In the meantime we have acquired ourselves a rather over-jolly estate agent, who is desperate to prove to us that two bedroom bungalows with a small garden exist in the price range we can afford, and which are actually cheaper than our three bedroom semi on a corner plot with a huge garden.

Our semi has 3 double bedrooms, a conservatory, workshop, shower room, bathroom, kitchen, and two reception rooms.  However, we live in the arse end of nowhere surrounded by bellowing cows and leafy country lanes.  There is one shop in our village and two pubs.  The issue according to the estate agent, is that as we want to move nearer to a town, the price of properties are going to rise.  It appears that living in a bungalow in an actual town itself would only be possible with the aid of a large lottery win.

Therein lies the problem.  Yesterday I viewed yet another unsuitable two bedroom bungalow about 5 miles from a town centre.  Apart from the single sized bedrooms there was one reception room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. All the rooms were tiny, and the whole property smelt of damp despite the fact that all the radiators were going at full blast.  Yet the price of this was not much cheaper than the price of our semi.  I backed out hastily with a false smile.

As far as I can tell, there doesn’t seem to be much point in moving.  We’ve got a brand new central heating system for the winter, new soffits and fascia boards, and lots of space to get away from each other if we so wish.  Unfortunately we haven’t seen anything better than we’ve already got, and so for the moment we’re going to clear out the two lofts and stay right where we are!

 

 

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