18 May, 2008
Jonola14 Productions

visitors



"Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens"

House Hunt

DATE: 9th and 10th August 2002.

SITUATION: Three weeks before start new job. Meet up with two others to find accommodation in Ealing.


Armed with an A to Z of London and a long list of estate agents, I struggled through the crowds of Ealing Broadway and eventually met up with Laura W and Linsday P, 23 minutes late.

We were in high spirits, we had already researched the Ealing area and seen some encouraging pictures of rented properties and we were all looking forward to starting our new jobs, as well as receiving our brand new 1.5 dci Clios, courtesy of Renault. Firstly though, we needed a place to base ourselves. Why Ealing? It seemed like a logical choice - it was a nice area that offered a good balance between distance to work and distance from the centre of London, as well as proximity to motorways and airports.

Our spirits were literally dampened, however, when a few minutes after leaving the station, the heavens opened and down came a thunderous shower. We only had one umbrella between us and shopkeepers kept moaning at us for sheltering in their doorways. 'Right', we thought, as we sloshed up the high street, soaked to the skin, 'good start'.

Having decided that we'd better purchase another umbrella because the rain really wasn't letting up in the slightest and further downpours were scheduled for later in the day, we sauntered into a local chemists. 'Ding ding' went the doorbell as we walked in, water poured off our sodden clothes and collected in three nicely rounded puddles in the doorway. Small rivulets of water flowed off our sopping heads and dripped consistently onto the small arrangement of cheap and tacky umbrellas.

Enter the Indian owner of the chemist, who immediately started debating the prices of the umbrellas, even though some were clearly marked. We really didn't need his argumentative behaviour, we were totally drenched and just wanted an umbrella for some sort of protection against the meteorological onslaught that we were about to face. Lindsay put an umbrella on the counter and handed over the cash for the man to process, just as a clap of thunder sounded in the distance and the driving rain stepped up a gear. Upon handing Lindsay her change, and this line will go with me to my grave, he enquired "would you like a bag?".

I CAN HARDLY SEE IN FRONT OF ME BECAUSE OF THE INCESSANT DOWNPOUR, MY CLOTHES ARE TOTALLY DRENCHED AND I'M SOAKED TO THE BONE. I KNOW I'LL JUST POP INTO THE CHEMIST TO BUY AN UMBRELLA AND I'LL CARRY IT AROUND IN A WITH ME ALL DAY IN A BAG.

Twenty minutes later, after I had stopped crying with laughter, we arrived at our first property to view, in a quiet street, with comparatively cheap rent and plenty of much-needed parking space. We were impressed, the property offered an excellent quality of decoration, a lovely, clean, fitted kitchen, a large lounge and dining room, and three double bedrooms. Our only hang-up was the size of the fourth bedroom. We had nothing to compare the property to, so we toddled off to view the others on the list.

The next one we viewed was dirty and too far away from the Broadway, so we gathered our thoughts together over a coffee and crossed off the agents from the list who had told us they couldn't offer us anything.

The next viewing was Nichols Green, and I happened to mention that I had a good feeling about it. So off we wandered, A to Z in hand, still damp but happier now the rain had stopped.

As we turned the corner into Nichols Green, we saw a large pile of household waste and a significant quantity of building materials. 'Oh great, it must be under refurbishment' we thought, not knowing that we couldn't have been further from the truth. A knackered old Ford Fiesta turned up and out popped Luca, a Greek sounding Italian who was about as convincing as a sunglasses-wearing polar bear trying to gain entry at a giraffes-only disco.

The first thing we noticed as we hesitantly tip-toed into the pit, otherwise known as 'the hall', was the overwhelming stench of curry. I noted the broken mirror and the garage full of Volvic mineral water bottles before tripping on the loose carpet on the top step. The house was still inhabited and we had clearly caught them at a bad time. Up the stairs we went and found ourselves in the kitchen where the Indian cook smiled sweetly and tried to cover up the embarrassing week-old curry stains on the electric cooker. Luca rabbitted on about the 'selling points' that the property offered, so we ignored him and tottered off upstairs, a piercing sense of dread hanging over us. The four bedrooms could produce nothing more than dirty, oversized carpets, broken blinds and ripped curtains, so we quickly made our way back downstairs, choosing to ignore the verbal diarrhoea that Luca seemed to have contracted. So much for my good feeling.....

There was still time, though, for Lindsay to step outside onto the decking of the balcony and almost fall right through it. The look on her face when she trod on the sodden wood decking, which then creaked menacingly and arched twelve inches downwards, was absolutely priceless. Luca, though, tried to comfort her by showing us all that he thought it was safe. So there he stood, bouncing up and down on this creaking decking, claiming that 'it just needs a nail or two'. Upon conclusion that this guy was one tomato short of a sald, we bundled into his car as quickly as we could so we could get to the next viewing.

His driving was questionable at the very least. He would only look to the right when he was actually in the middle of the roundabout, he kept the vehicle on the wrong side of the road and he had the most annoying habit of holding one hand out the window whilst driving, almost like he was waving to everyone or holding an imaginary cigarette. The tension and stress we had sustained from the Nichols Green experience was soon quashed though, when I attempted to pull my seat forward. Grasping the seat adjustment handle and grabbing the dashboard for some grip, I yanked the seat forward, only for part of his glove compartment to come off in my hand.

For his revenge, he parked the knackered Fiesta right next to a skip when he pulled up to the next property, so that I really had to squeeze myself to get out, it backfired though and his door now has a small skip mark embedded in its paintwork. We had a quick peek around this property, were totally unimpressed, despite Luca's insistance that 'ees niiice' and persuaded him to drop us somewhere in Ealing.

Estate agents have a fairly bad reputation for customer service, that is a pretty well known fact, but we all thought that such a prejudice was unfounded. But after the way we were spoken to in a couple of agencies, we are now in full agreement. If you are an estate agent reading this, please take note: be pleasant to prospective customers; rudeness, abruptness and arrogance are not a nice combination to experience. That's when we met Tine, but I'm not going to waffle on about that one.

However, Frederick the time-waster was next on the agenda. Unable to dissuade him from going to 'special' efforts, we half-heartedly went to view two properties with him despite the fact that they both had one bedroom too many each and they were £700 a month out of our price range. Unable to decipher his nationality, we nicknamed him 'Grolsch' due to his accentual similarities with the lager adverts and let him get on with it. We were encouraged by his insistance that he would be able to negociate the price with the landlord, but we'd have to pay him a massive £800 deposit for the priviledge. I don't think so, Grolsch, now take your clogs and get the hell away from us.

The afternoon hunting session was also entertainment-filled, but the highlight had to be Eunice the South African drama queen, with her degree in bad driving. After getting us lost, she asked me to map read and proceeded to scrape the front bumper on every pavement she could find. Eventually we turned up at one property and she boldly turned the keys and marched straight in, only to find that the alarm had been set and it was merely seconds away from sounding. She locked the door again, in the desperate hope that the alarm might suddenly shut up, and off she trotted back to her car, mobile phone in hand, frantically trying to dial the office for the code. Meanwhile, back in the doorway, the amazingly loud alarm had gone off and the neighbours were all subtley pulling back their net curtains a fraction to see what was going on. Some of them visibly tutted, obviously used to such an occurence.

So back she came, unlocked the door again and punched in the code. After we got our hearing back, she showed us the lounge before sniffling and running up the stairs in tears.

The day really hadn't gone as well as expected so we swanned off to the pub for a few beers and a bit of a stress reliever.

The first house was clearly the leader of the pack and after two days of trekking around Ealing in the driving rain with, eventually, two umbrellas (no bag), after our experiences in the Indian house, after subjection to the moronic Luca, the obnoxious Tine, and Grolsch the untrustworthy, we decided to take the first flat we looked at after all.