Home away from home

When I first cane to London, I was sure it’s only a temporary stopover along the way. I’d just graduated and wanted to go further with my studies, but I needed money to do that. And Poland, as you may know already, is not the best place to earn money.

So I decided to go to London. For a couple of months, a year tops.

Four years on and I’m still here, and it looks like I’m in for a long ride. We’ve just bought a flat, so it’s quite a commitment.

That wasn’t exactly the plan. But at first I got fed up with flatsharing (10 people queuing for the loo, unwashed dishes in the sink, somebody’s filthy socks under the sofa and endless parties in the garden whenever I was about to go to sleep are all to blame), then I got fed up with renting (can’t paint the wall fuchsia pink, it’s got to be the omnipresent magnolia, otherwise I’ll lose my deposit; can’t hang a picture on the wall, as it requires drilling a hole, and if I do so, I’ll lose my deposit; can’t get rid of the old coffee table, as it’s the landlady’s favourite and if I tell her it’s hideous… Yup, you got it) and then I realized I could pay for my own place instead.

Finding a perfect pad is not that difficult. Convincing the bank that you’ll be able to afford the mortgage, the bills, the commuting, the food, the booze and the occasional takeaway is the hard bit. Then comes the long, dreary wait for the lender’s approval and when that’s gone through, an even longer one, for the solicitors to finally draw up a contract. Now I don’t know how difficult it is to draw one up, but I reckon it’s all fairly standard. Why it takes over a month, I cannot tell. You’re lucky if: a) you still haven’t handed in yoyr notice to the landlord, b) you have someone who’ll put up with you for a while if necessary, c) your solicitors are the hard-working types, not the slacking-off-and-coffee-sipping ones. Once that’s sorted, you can move in. Provided you haven’t gone mental from all the hassle.

If anyone tells you becoming a homeowner is easy-peasy, you can be sure they’re lying. And they probably know that.

But – it’s still worth it. The view from my own balcony. The sweat from putting Ikea furniture together, dismantling them and putting them together again, this time the right way round. The irresistible calling of my first oversized corner sofa. The justified spending of hard-earned money and the constant abuse of credit limits on all fronts cards. The finishing touches that have my name on them.

It’s worth it. So to all fellow foreigners in London and all over the UK, if you’re planning to stay for a while, buy a place. And then you’ll never want to leave.

April 14, 2009. Uncategorized.