I’m thoroughly jaded after a few months spent in the trenches of the Wellington property market, viewing houses that are variously mouldy, smelly, damp, dark, perched on the side of a cliff, about two-feet square, or all of the above. Forget views, space, nice kitchens and bathrooms, and flat, useable backyards. My requirements have shrunk to, “must have three bedrooms,” and most importantly of all, “must not smell.” So far only one house we’ve viewed meets the must not smell requirement. And we’re going to put in a tender bid for it this Thursday. Should we be the lucky ones, we’ll own a squat, square, ex-state house clad in bright red brick.
And I will be pretty damn pleased about it. Clean and dry trump glamour any day.