For anyone who has been unlucky enough to be near me for the past six months, I’m sorry.
Because I’ve been like a stuck record. I’ve been all “I want a mortgage” and “we have to move so we can afford a house” and “we’ll NEVER be able to buy – a 25 percent deposit is out of the question!”
Yes, boring indeed.
We don’t own our own home, see. Like many other young(ish) couples, we missed that window of opportunity where banks were offering mortgages with a reasonable 5 or 10 percent deposit. So now we’re a bit stuck.
It never bothered me before. I was confident we’d eventually get “on the property ladder” but was too caught up with moving to where the jobs were and then meeting the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and then having a baby.
But now all I want is a house.
It doesn’t have to be big. It doesn’t have to be nice. It just has to be ours. All ours. So our fate isn’t in someone else’s hands. So we move when we decide to move.
We have a plan (and it doesn’t involve robbing a bank or winning the lottery), so I’m not too worried about it anymore. The thing is, that plan involves moving 200 miles away. It means Frog won’t grow up in the village where we currently live and she won’t go to school with the other babies she knows.
It also means she won’t have to put up with a fenceless garden for much longer.
You win some, you lose some.
This is my entry for this week’s Gallery. Pop over to Sticky Fingers to see the rest.