Property

Times

May 30, 2003

Market Analysis

For what it's worth

by Claire McDonald

First-time buyers may have to downsize their dreams and overlook the Artex - but don't be put off

SEVERAL YEARS AGO my friends and I discussed buying properties. I counselled against, saying we were young and a property was a millstone round your neck. I told them a mortgage would put paid to those urges to up sticks and leave the country in search of your inner self, man. Fortunately for them, they totally ignored my advice and have ended up with properties that have almost tripled in value. I, on the other hand, upped sticks, travelled the world, found my inner self, decided my outer self was much nicer, came home and got a job on a property supplement.

Smug friends and hindsight are irritating things, but they spurred me on and last year I bought my own place. Prices in Central London meant I had few choices as a first-time buyer, but after five years in rented accommodation my priority was just to find somewhere I could call home.

I knew I would have to downsize my aspirations and relegate my list of requirements (high ceilings, nice bathroom, a wistaria-clad balcony with river views) to the part of my brain marked “dreams”. Instead I was looking for “potential”, that elusive quality that comes cheap but costs dear in the elbow grease department.

I cashed in my premium bonds, chucked in the money I found down the back of the sofa and began to look at ex-local authority properties in South London. There I found many flats with potential: potential danger. As I rejoiced in the cool “urban brutalism” architecture of one estate, my refreshingly honest estate agent pointed out how this was augmented by a bullet hole through the glass in the communal area.

Another time my raptures at being so close to local amenities were punctured slightly when he pointed out that not only could I get milk and bread from the local Londis, but that the chap standing by the lifts would no doubt be happy to ensure I was supplied with the exotic narcotics so popular locally.

It was then I realised that areas with potential are tricky to spot and safety is more important. I narrowed my search to Kennington and Oval because they are central, relatively crime-free and have great transport links.

Here I found the home of my dreams: a ground-floor maisonette with two double bedrooms, a kitchen big enough to eat in, outside space, situated on a residential street between two main roads. It was on a tiny council estate surrounded by attractive Victorian townhouses and only six minutes’ walk from Oval Tube. And, best of all, it was £20,000 less than the £160,000 I had been prepared to pay.

OK, it was a bit dark and dingy, the pine-clad bathroom and the grease-stained navy blue carpet had to go, but the lounge had beautiful parquet flooring and the back of the house caught the sun all day. It had potential. The thing is, I was so busy looking at potential I missed the Artex.

How I didn’t notice those white peaks, which can draw blood and cover the downstairs and upstairs hall, 20ft stairwell drop and living-room ceiling, is beyond me.

This little oversight has resulted in me spending more than 50 hours scraping the damn stuff. It has taken over my life. I dream about scraping, have RSI from scraping, cancelled my social life to scrape and still I am only halfway through. I talk about little else, which meant that when I suggested having a wallpaper scraping party my friends politely declined.

There are other things that I missed in my eagerness to buy. My outdoor space is a ground-floor balcony, which is OK, but not ideal for private sunbathing because it is overlooked by all the neighbouring flats. A friend who has since bought the flat upstairs has a balcony on the second floor and enjoys almost permanent sunshine (weather permitting) and a view over school fields and terraced houses, of which I am very jealous.

Another thing: the lavatory isn’t in the upstairs bathroom, as might be expected, but in a tiny room next to the front door. This is a pain if you want to go during the night, and guests feel slightly uneasy using it because it is just feet away from the living area.

So, with the benefit of hindsight, was I right to overlook the Artex and buy a property with “potential”? The answer has to be “yes”. Gradually I am turning the flat into the home I have always wanted and am no longer lining a landlord’s pocket with my monthly rent.

Of course, if I had taken my friends’ advice and firmly fastened that property millstone round my neck five years ago, me and Artex may never have become acquainted, and the muscles in my right arm would be more normally proportioned.

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