House hunting was not as bad as I was expecting it to be. On Friday my dad and I took the long, meandering journey through the peak district to my university city. The first place was a lovely block of brand new flats, still being constructed, about 10 minutes from a high street and giant supermarket. Alas, the area around it although convenient, seemed not quite as nice. There was a family friendly pub nearby, but there were also clubs. The place seemed to be being developed, but was still an obvious work in progress. We drove to the next place in pouring rain and stood, huddled under our umbrella, only for no one to show up. We phoned the estate agent and they had not sent anyone, and could not as they had lost the keys. The area was dodgy, right next to the train line, and even from the outside the flat looked insecure and run down and clearly the management of the place was shaky. That place was out. We got back in the car and drove home. I felt bad, guilty almost, as my dad was clearly tired from all that driving, which in the end had been for very little. I was left wishing I’d scheduled more for the day, wishing that somehow I could have made it so that second viewing had gone differently.
On Saturday we took the quicker route down to the City but ended up stuck in traffic- only just managing to make our appointment on time. It was a little house in a quiet residential area on the outskirts of the city. We knocked on the door and the current tenants let us inside to have a look around- tiny kitchen, tiny living room, twisting stairs to a tiny landing, a small bathroom and large bedroom with internal storage. I had already fallen in love with the area and I fell in love a little more looking at the place- this small, slightly shabby, quiet little house. It was just the area that was as much as a let down as an appeal- it seemed very far from everything. And although I was obviously keen my father was hesitant- preferring the flat we’d seen the day before. So I pushed it to the back of my mind to focus on viewing the rest. Back to the car, and we discussed it as we headed back to an area we’d seen the day before, driving around that previous flat before stopping at ASDA for an unhealthy lunch of pastries and donuts. We drove to the next viewing only for it to be cancelled 10 minutes beforehand. Which was great, especially as I’d been quite keen on that apartment. Oh well, we had a lot of time to kill until our next appointment so we went to a nearby nature reserve and had a little walk around the lake there. There were mostly ducks and geese there, and far too many cyclists taking up the pathways, but it was still rather pleasant. Despite this I was quiet, withdrawn, deep in thought. House hunting had long started to overwhelm me and I wanted to concede to whatever, just so I could go home and be done with it. We still had one more place to go though. That last apartment turned out to be wonderful- with a huge, airy kitchen- but between all the initial fees and the rent, far too expensive. And something about it did not feel right- it was a gut instinct. More realistically, they had a lot of interest in the place (it was a group viewing) and I did not think I would get it, and did not want it enough to try even. We took the long route home then, turning off on a new, unfamiliar road to take a different route through the peak district. It was almost like Japan- twisting, narrow roads, forest on both sides, but tamer, less lush, quieter with no cicadas crying out. I do think it is pretty though- and many of the villages in the peak district are charming with the old stone houses.
So we’d driven for three hours both ways, on two days, to see 6 places, which had become 5 when one was cancelled before Friday, which eventually became 3 due to last minute cancellations and agents not showing up. In the end we ruled out the last place and got it down to 2. I was all about the house- but my dad was pushing for the apartment. We discussed it on Sunday morning, after a lot of thinking about it on both our parts. I’d reluctantly steered myself towards agreeing to the flat, but my father surprised me by telling me he actually agreed with the house. I had researched it and found it was the same distance as the flat from uni, on a cheaper bus, and 15 minutes from a store, which I think aided his sudden turn around. Nonetheless I was ecstatic, but nervous too. What if I didn’t get it? I phoned them bright and early Monday morning and thankfully there had been no offers. Monday morning, I sat down and filled out forms with the my father then we sent them off and since then, its just waiting for everything to go through. I phoned them up yesterday and it does seem like I may have this little place, which is rather exciting.
I cannot wait to live by myself, away from other students and their noise and their filth. The only thing that’s begun to worry me now is that this place comes unfurnished and the more I think about it the more I realize how much an expense it is going to be buying appliances, kitchen items, furniture… and what on earth am I supposed to do with all those things later on, when I likely move back home whilst searching for a job? I know I’m thinking too much about this, and I’ve not even got the place yet so I don’t know why I’m painting pictures of how I want to fill it with all my things. But still, I’m filled with anticipation. The prospect of moving to my own place is both exciting and also a little nerve wrecking. I’ve never really done anything like this before. My foundation year, I lived at home. My first and second years, I was in halls. Now I’m really going to be on my own. Probably in my own house. It’s brilliant.