My Irish Husband Tony and I moved to Birmingham in September of 2004. This past year we finally decided it was time to quit paying rent. This is a chronicle of our journey through the world of UK property buying.

As predicted, the Buxton Road house, right off the bus route to my campus, was absolutely fantastic and they had added the all-wood conservatory on the back because the rooms were so small. That much we
expected from the photos and the specifications.

What we didn't expect was the real wood floors (not laminate). And the kitchen-right-out-of-a-remodeling advert. And the walk-in bedroom closet—rare in this land of stand-alone wardrobes. And the quiet street
right near shops.

But those rooms are small. Tony developed a plan to build a double bed over the wasted space where the stairway forces itself up in to the bedroom. But...

As Buxton Road moved to the top of our list—far as it is from Sutton — I decided to follow up on every property we had in mind. This meant calling the real estate office I had been lured into by a description
in their window. They had said that house was temporarily on hold, but I called back to check.

'Still on hold. But could I take your details so we can get in touch with you?' asked Nicola. I liked Nicola. She wasn't going to let us get away.

I gave her our contact details and Tony and I bundled into the car so he could drive me and my laptop with the dead hard drive (I pounded on it. Don't ask.) to school. Within minutes, Nicola called back.

'You won't believe this. The other agent here passed me a description of a property that has just come up. It's £129,950 and right in Sutton.'

'You're kidding?'

'One bedroom.'

'Oh.'

'But you have to see this. Trust me.'

I trusted Nicola. We waved at her as we drove by her office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday morning I set out down Holland Road, just a few blocks away from where we live now. Halfway down I realized that, in the British way, Upper Holland Road, was way at the other end. But it was a nice
day and I was wearing my walking shoes, so I chalked it up as good exercise.

I passed Kathleen Street (really) and then greeted Nicola in front of the Edwardian bay window of #41.

'Well, you win on location,' I told her instantly. Right down the hill from buses that go straight in to Sutton centre if you're not up for the 10 minute walk. We entered through the back door, from the large garden with the finished patio.

'Do you believe in fate?' Nicola said as we stood on the blue-gray slate floors in the big kitchen — big enough for a table for six, rare in this land of postage-stamp rooms — and wandered down the wide hallway with the original Minton tiling (I'm learning the terminology), into the spacious living room with wood-laminate floors, looking out the wide bay window to the lovely street outside. Passing the one, the only, but large, bedroom.

Well. It certainly has a lot of wood. It certainly is old. It certainly is beautifully refurbished.

'I'm not sure about fate,' I told her. 'But I do believe in getting a feeling in your stomach when you first walk into a place.' Like I did when we first walked into our current apartment. And our apartment in Hollywood, Florida. And our apartment in Squirrel Hill, Pennsylvania. And like my mother did when she first walked into the house in Pittsburgh we lived in for the next 35 years.

So I texted Tony to see if he could come look before he goes to work on Saturday and I tried not to oversell when describing it to him. We got on-line with our new desktop PC (don't ask) to see the pictures, but it didn't photograph as well as it felt.

When we went through with Nicola on Saturday, I'm sure she thought that Tony wasn't impressed. But I know the Irish. He loved it.

For £129,950 (at current rates, 1.96 to the dollar) right near beautiful downtown Sutton, you get one floor of a house. Three rooms, large bathroom, a back garden with a small patio and a garage. But each
room is bigger than any others we've seen, so the feeling is much less cramped than the flat over the hill or refurbished Buxton Road.

I looked at wardrobes in HomeBase and took their catalogue home. I measured the long, low sideboard in the British Heart Foundation furniture store to see if it would fit in the big bay window with pillows on top. I figured out where we would put the cat litter.

We called Peter the Mortgage Guy. He has applied for us to get an 'agreement in principle.' He thinks this company will be stupid enough to give us a mortgage.

Maybe not so stupid. Maybe we are good enough to live in Sutton.

Fingers crossed.

The Explaining to Americans Archive

KDixonDonnelly

08.03.07 Front Page

Back Issue Page