EVERYONE'S a 10-minute expert on what's wrong with the property market. But I'm the real thing: one of a tiny minority who actually managed to exchange contracts last month and who, fingers crossed, will move into a new home this week.
The experience has left me badly bruised. I have concluded that not only have banks stopped lending, but everyone involved in the house buying process is suffering from a collective nervous breakdown.
A bit of context. This is our sixth move, so
we are hardly novices. Furthermore, the excellent contacts which go with this job usually mean I get a mortgage offer within hours of applying.
We had no intention of moving, but my husband's office has relocated. Back in February we found a house I fell in love with (something I haven't done for 25 years). Cushioned by a relocation package, we were effectively cash buyers. The people selling were moving into a property they had inherited. There was no chain, no complication. It was the simplest deal you could find.
It was an older property and you could see with the naked eye that the roof needed attention, so before making an offer we commissioned a full structural survey. Our surveyor, a specialist in historic properties with 30 years' experience in the area, reported that the house, built in very high-quality stone, was in exceptional condition for its age. Furthermore, though part of the roof needed retiling, the internal structure had been built to an extraordinarily high standard.
The house had already been on the market for a year, and had recently suffered a substantial price reduction, so we took our time. We wanted to borrow a small amount of money, around 10%, which meant we had a 90% deposit, as well as other investments for security.
I did my homework and settled on two lenders, both of which have excellent reputations. One was cheaper than the other. It was several weeks before we received mortgage offers from either. We proceeded with the cheaper one.
Meanwhile, our own solicitors were putting every possible obstacle in our way. We were using a firm appointed by the relocation agent. They came up with half a dozen reasons why we should not buy this house.
But I nearly had a heart attack when they said they intended to inform our lender that the property was not suitable security for a mortgage.
They quickly about-turned when I demanded to speak to the senior partner. He acknowledged the "obstacles" were commonplace conditions with older properties and easily solvable. Nevertheless, he strongly advised us not to proceed.
When we indicated we wished to anyway, he said that was fine, although he doubted nine out of 10 clients would have our tenacity and determination in the current climate.
Our surveyor thought the solicitors, who had never been near the property and knew nothing of the area, were completely mad. "They are only trying to do their job, I guess," I said.
"They are not doing their job," he exploded. "If they stop you buying a beautiful property which is soundly constructed and you want to buy, they are not doing their job."
Next we had to commission a mortgage valuation, because the bank insisted we use one on its panel (another £750).
This valuer pinpointed some concerns. These had all been noted and investigated by the original surveyor, and judged benign. Nevertheless, it took a further three in-depth engineering reports to satisfy the bank's valuers. The fifth and final report unequivocally concluded, just as the first one had, that the house was as solid as a rock.
It became clear that the bank had very little intention of ever granting us the loan it had already offered.
Even when every last obstacle was removed, it still wouldn't give up. It started making noises about withholding £30,000 until we carried out the repairs to the roof. This was laughable, as it was quite a big chunk of the amount we were borrowing.
I was getting ready for a fight when I received a call telling me that as the amount we were borrowing was such a small percentage of the value of the property they would not be holding any money back. Phew.
At this point, nearly four months after first seeing the property, we finalised our offer, it was accepted and we exchanged.
A week later the bank rang. "Mrs Hunter, we just wanted to clarify last week's conversation about your offer. We think you may have misunderstood what we said. We don't think you quite understood what we said about withholding £30,000 from the advance."
"I did understand. You said there would be no retention," I replied.
"No, that's the bit you didn't understand. There will be a £30,000 retention. We will deduct £30,000 from the advance."
I didn't bother to argue. "I know you record these conversations," I said. "I want a copy of the tape."
I got another call a few hours later. "Mrs Hunter, we think you may have misunderstood the conversation earlier this afternoon. Of course there will be no retention."
I didn't misunderstand anything. And I hope my story might help the Bank of England and Chancellor understand better what is going on.
Unless banks and other housing professionals get a grip, we are all heading for property Armageddon.
