Cathy Deshayes

Recent Posts by Cathy Deshayes

• You're just too good to be true
• Word on the street
• Staring Halloween in the face
• Polls apart
• Party like it's 2009?
• One side of the storey
• Is home where the heart is?
• Freedom fighter
• Flat pack: The highs and lows of flat sharing

Subjects Covered by Cathy Deshayes

• Money
• Currency
• Tax
• Insurance
• Mortgages
• Retirement
• Property
• Property Investment
• Buy to let
• Project Launches
• Property markets
• Property advice
• Auctions
• House prices
• Renovation & DIY

• Social
• Celebrities & Gossip
• Quirky & Amusing
• Rankings & Ratings
• Social trends
• Travel & Tourism
• Environment
• Professional
• Economics
• Transport & Infrastructure
• Land Development
• Legal Issues
• Commercial Property
• Industry News

Cathy Deshayes's Blog

A house with a history

Whilst many buyers argue that location, location, location is everything, there are some things that the best location in the world won't cancel out. You can change décor, you can change neighbours, but you can't change history.

Serial killer John Wayne Gacy's home in the Norwood Park Township near Chicago was demolished in 1979, but the plot then sat vacant for more than a decade - nobody wanted to touch it.

The Oxford Apartments, the building in Milwaukee where Dahmer murdered most of his victims in 1990 and 1991, was razed in 1992 and remains a vacant lot. 25 Cromwell Road in Gloucester, the home of murderers Fred and Rose West, was demolished in October 1996.

A beautiful Victorian house near my grandparent's place went for a fraction of its market value a few years back due to its truly gruesome past - a maid had been strangled by the home's male owner years before and her body bricked into a wall in the pantry.

Nobody, it seemed, was willing to take on a property with such a legacy attached. It eventually went to (surprise) a developer who has since pulled it down and started again.

The Tudor-style house at 749 15th St in Boulder, Colorado, was home to six-year-old beauty queen JonBenét Ramsey, whose body was found in the basement. There have been numerous new owners over the years, all of whom have purchased or sold the house at well below-market value since JonBenét's death in 1996.

This rather depressing topic is on my mind this week following a trip to Berlin over the weekend. We spent the Saturday - coincidentally my partner's 30^th birthday - at a concentration camp - a rather unusual choice - and a day I know I will never forget.

So, what of the family homes lining the street outside the Sachsenhausen concentration camp in Oranienburg near Berlin? Opening your curtains each morning and being faced with a location of such horror is certainly not going to be something everybody could cope with.

But Berlin has so much history and so much tragedy on the doorstep that perhaps the inhabitants of the roads surrounding the camp have simply learned to live with it and see it as part of their everyday life. Perhaps they don't even think about their infamous neighbour - it's just part of the scenery.

Would you buy a home that had a terrible past? Let me know at Catherine@themovechannel.com

Word on the street

OK, I'll admit it. Streetview has changed my life. Currently in the midst of the first-time buying saga - which makes me feel stressed even thinking about it - Streetview played a big part in our decision to go for this particular flat.

No longer did we have to traipse over to our chosen area (Kingston) each night to view properties on roads that were totally unsuitable - now we could take a walk down the road without leaving our sofa.

Now that's what I call exercise...

We checked out the flat we are in the process of buying on Streetview and I'd already decided I wanted to live there before we had even taken a look inside.

The streetview street looked Truman Show perfect - we could nose into the neighbours gardens, we could look at the adjoining streets, roam around the park, take a virtual walk to the town centre - in short - I'd seen enough. I was sold.

Looking round it in the flesh the next evening was a strange feeling - like meeting someone you are certain you have met before - a real sense of déjà vu - for of course, in my virtual life, I had been here before. I'd even slagged off the curtains in the front room before walking through the front door.

There's only so much an estate agent will tell you about a property - excellent transport links (code for: on the edge of a motorway intersection with train tracks behind); or a young and vibrant community (code for: opposite a youth detention centre).

But now, it doesn't matter than you don't seem to be able to trust certain estate agents any more than you would trust your credit card with Pinocchio, you can have a tour around the neighbourhood and then decide whether you want to bother going to visit the place or not.

It will be especially helpful for those who live a long way away from where they hope to move to.

I read that one poor woman has discovered that her hubbie was having an affair with her best friend (sigh-that old cliché) when she saw his ‘distinctive landrover' parked outside her friend's £250,000 semi detached home (Daily Mail anyone?) when he had told her he was away on a business trip.

Clearly he was up to another kind of business altogether.

So of course, now that we have streetviewed the road a million times and zoomed in to everyone's window to...well...to be nosy...we have done the one thing everyone warns you against.

We've mentally moved in. We've decided where to put the furniture and what to do with the garden. We know what colours we are going to paint the living room and where we are going to build bookshelves. A warning - do not try this at home! Word on the street is it's a recipe for disaster but I just can't help myself.

Cyn(ical) city

Let's make no bones about it - no matter how much Auckland and Wellington - the two best known cities in NZ - try, they will never offer the kind of buzzing metropolis that cities such as London or Paris do. These cities, steeped in history, offer the sort of cultural experience (and stunning architecture) that the land of the long white cloud can only dream of.

But, with that vibrancy comes huge compromise. Let's use London as an example since that's where I'm writing from - the compromises that go hand in hand with living in London - crowds, overpriced everything, attitude, dirt - are not in evidence in New Zealand.

Maybe I've just had enough of London itself. They say if you are bored of London then you are bored of life itself - thus you are a boring old fart.

I have come to the conclusion that I am indeed a boring old fart because I am bored with London. I am mind-numbingly, monumentally bored with the elements that accompany living in London.

A city where there is so much to do and so much to see that we spend every weekend driving out to the countryside to escape the crowds and the congestion. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that, for me, the excitement and fun of living in the Capital has become vastly overshadowed by the hassle.

Yes, I am well aware that I am turning into the kind of whingeing Pom that I loathe.

NZ is not without flaws - it's a hell of a way away from family and friends and very expensive to get to from Europe. Gone would be the days of nipping over to Europe for a weekend mini break if you lived in NZ. There's not the same breadth for career progression as there is in London. Nobody ever talks about ‘making it in New Zealand.' It rains. A lot. Winters are pretty grim I hear. Auckland traffic is easily as bad as London.

But look at what you get in return. It's undoubtedly the most beautiful place I have ever been to. It's uncrowded, with just four million people in the space in which we have packed in more than 60 million. It's far less materialistic and people take you for who you are not where you live or what you do/wear/drive.

Nowhere on New Zealand's North Island (where we were) is far from the beach even if you are living very close to Auckland city centre. Food, clothes and houses are far cheaper - you can get a four bedroom detached family home with a big garden within walking distance to central Auckland for the price of a teeny terrace over here. But then wages are lower so that probably cancels itself out.

Cliché alert - people are happier to be alive than they seem in London. They are friendlier - in shops, in restaurants, in general. There isn't that degree of suspicion that surrounds strangers like there is over here- or maybe that's just in London. I found this so unusual it grated on my cynical city nerves the first few days, until I got used to it and realised it was genuine.

Let's take a typical (summer) weekend as an example.

New Zealand - walk/drive to the beach in ten/twenty minutes. It's virtually empty. Unload your boat (which you don't need a licence for). Go fishing/swimming/surfing. Drive home (no traffic unless you are driving through Auckland). Light the barbecue, cook your freshly caught fish. Drink some New Zealand pinot.

London - get stuck in traffic on the motorway trying to get to Brighton for the day. Arrive. Can't find a parking space or a free spot on the (pebble) beach on which to lay your towel. Pay a fortune for a sandwich for lunch. Get stuck in traffic driving back into London. Have an argument over whose turn it is to go to Tesco's to buy dinner.

Or is that just us?

The dilemma is, if I had no family/friends/work ties here, I would move to somewhere like NZ like a shot. It's not the UK as a place that is keeping me here. It is, of course, all the people that I love here and that's something no amazing beach could ever match. So, when it so happens that one of those people is from NZ and keen to move back, what on earth do I do then?

Stay? 

Or go?

Answers on a postcard please...

Freedom fighter

There's a first time for everything, but this first feels like its also the last -I'm kissing goodbye to my freedom..

OK, so that's a slightly dramatic way of putting it, but once we stop renting and become - gasp - homeowners, that's the end to any frivolous notions about jacking it all in and schlepping off around Thailand for six months, or going back to uni, or indeed any form of paid for social life (well, maybe the last one is an exaggeration).

What is not an exaggeration, however, is that you are tied to a big old pile of bricks and mortor and can no longer just up and leave as your fancy takes you. For commitment- phobes, that could cause issues.

But, I for one feel ready to be committing to something a bit more permanent and I know I'm certainly not alone in feeling ill at the thought of all that dead money that's busy paying off someone else's (who clearly budgeted far better than I did) mortgage each month.

 So, in my last blog post I told you about how we had a mortgage meeting lined up and how I was going to report back.

Not one to renege on a promise, here we go:

We had our first foray into the world of mortgages courtesy of the Halifax on Fulham Broadway. Off to a disastrous start - no mortgage advisor available (at a time when I thought they would be desperate for a sniff of interest from someone with a decent deposit) despite us having booked the appointment in advance.

Then we were told we had to speak to an advisor -who was in Leeds - on the phone. However, we couldn't have speaker phone as ‘the line was too bad' so the advisor would have to repeat everything he was saying twice-once to me and once to my boyfriend.

Hmmm...not exactly what we had in mind. Anyway, once the Halifax minion had departed, we switched onto speaker phone and it was fine.

We had a very nice guy called James Phillips who was extremely helpful - but he still hasn't replied to our email with queries - so James, if you're reading this- please reply to us clueless wannabe buyers!

We spent over an hour on the phone to poor James and were given a ‘mortgage promise' for our request of a £200,000 loan to purchase a £250,000 house. (Which we haven't found yet I might add, although we did look at two on Saturday...more on that later.

All of the add on fees - legal fees, surveys, stamp duty, mortgage arrangement fee, add up to a pretty penny - and jolted us back to reality in an instant.

This was going to be a real stretch and, with the added twist that my joint purchaser is from New Zealand, so we don't know how long we want to be locked in to a house in the UK for.

So, we left feeling a bit more clued up, which is of course the whole point of going to the meeting in the first place. Don't be afraid to ask stupid questions-like Doctors, they will have heard it all before.

Arrange at least three or four meetings with different lenders to compare different deals and speak to a mortgage broker to let them do the legwork for you- you tell them what you are after and they go off and find a selection of the best deals to suit you.

Their services are pretty much the only thing that is...FREE...in this whole house buying business- as they get paid by the mortgage provider should you choose to take out one of the mortgages they recommend.

I spoke to Jennie at Mortgages for Business and she was very friendly and not put off by my lack of knowledge.

Onto the far more fun side of this whole process-the viewings. Now, nosing around other people's homes is always interesting and, when there is the added excitement that one day you could call it home, its even better.

We looked at two teeny two up-two down Victorian terraced cottages in North Kingston, on the same road. Thus, they had exactly the same floor space and makeup. What was shocking was how two identically sized and shaped houses could be made to look so different inside. The first one had made the most of its small proportions-open plan living and a lovely big bedroom, but the bathroom was downstairs - which is far from ideal in my book. I'd just feel wrong washing my hair whilst one the other side of the door someone was making lasagne.

The second house, however, had gone so overboard in adding all the latest mod cons and brand spanking new kitchens that all the rooms felt overcrowded and mean in size, even though they were exactly the same size originally as the first house. The second one was also ludicrously overpriced - a good £40K more than the one five doors down.

Today I got an email from the agent saying its price had been lowered (by around £40K- a satisfying start to the morning).

Next week - what deals does the mortgage broker comes back with and do we go and view a property that ticks all the boxes and is well under budget- but- and of course there's a but- its on a main road. Deal breaker?

And so to market...

I've decided that this will be the year that I step tentatively onto the property ladder and join that rare breed - the one section of society that is benefiting from the credit crunch - the first time buyer.

Priced way out of the market for the past few years, the falling house prices and incentives being offered by new build developers means that, for some first time buyers, they may finally get a look in at something which has so far eluded them.

Ideally I'd like to be in or around Kingston-upon-Thames, Richmond, Surbiton or (pushing it) Norbiton.

Ideally I would be snapping up a small two bedroom home with a little garden. I feel very anti about buying a new build - despite developer's incentives - stamp duty paid, utility bills paid etc - as there seems so little opportunity to add real value.

Ideally I wouldn't be buying a flat either. Having lived in a shoebox for more than three years (with a flatmate that needs to get out more) and an upstairs neighbour who snores obscenely loudly - I'm craving a bit of space.

A terraced house, however, would be fine. Just so long as there aren't people above and below me.

Ideally the house would have an eat-in kitchen and a bath aswell as a separate shower. Ideally the house would need some work-but only cosmetic not structural (but with the potential to do structural work later should we so wish).

And my budget for this (not so) little wishlist is a frankly laughable £250,000.

Which means that the first two locations are almost definitely out of our reach. And likely the last two aswell. Perhaps hitting an auction and trying to get my hands on a repossessed property might be the way forward. That way I may be able to get more house for my money and have some cash left over for renovations.

But first, the meeting with the mortgage advisor. I've arranged meetings with a handful of them and plan to do a sort of secret shopper type idea and then report back on this blog.

I think an appropriate title may be ‘The ramblings of a totally inexperienced yet hopeful first time buyer.'

I'll keep you posted...

Party like it's 2009?

We're now a full decade too late to ‘party like it's 1999,' even though that song cropped up more times than I care to remember over this new years eve.

Most of us are hoping against hope that this brand new year will act like brasso to the tarnished property market and make it shiny and new once again. We long to throw off all 2008 woes and worries and emerge like a big, bright 2009 butterfly.

So, I know what the question is on everyone's lips. No, it's not ‘how much can I get for that horrible unwanted pressie on eBay, (Just fyi-apparently the most common item on eBay after Christmas is saucepan sets - just who on earth are these people who are unfortunate enough to receive a kitchen necessity for Christmas?) Note to self-find new friends.

It's not even ‘what is your new year's resolution?' (Answer - I was attempting to do a dry January, go for a run every morning at 6am, etc etc, but sadly by 5pm on the first day of the New Year, I had already failed in the first of these tasks - well, that leftover cava from the night before couldn't just be binned now, could it?

However, I do see the 6am runs meeting that fate sooner rather than later.

No, the real question is what will happen to the property market in 2009?

Now is undoubtedly a good time to buy if you want to take advantage of the cheaper prices. For some, the crashes of 2008 have been a blessing in disguise - bringing booming property prices back into the grasp of thousands of wannabe homeowners who were convinced they would be renting forever.

Property writer Gordon Miller referred to US baseball coach Casey Stengel's quote, ‘Never make predictions, especially about the future.' This is the year to ignore that quote, as everyone rushes to put in their two cents worth as to what this year might hold for the property market.

Many experts are predicting a slow climb back up the road to recovery this year, with 2010 heralded as the golden year of a true UK property market bounce back.

Graham Beale, the Chief Executive of the Nationwide Building Society, is predicting that, this year, UK house prices could fall by as much as 25 per cent from their peak last autumn 2007. "I think we are into 2010 before we see signs of recovery," he said.

Yolande Barnes of Savills agreed, saying that from 2010 the housing market will recover and will increase 20 per cent by 2012, with London leading the way.

So, according to the experts, there appears to be little indication of an end to falling house prices before late summer 2009 at the earliest. And it will probably be 2010 before they begin to increase.

So, we'll have to hang on a bit to see if this year brings glad tidings of great joy for the property market and whether future generations will ever have cause to party like it's 2009.

Flat pack: The highs and lows of flat sharing

Everyone has some good stories about flat sharing. The hideous surprises lurking under beds, the mad flatmates, the laughable landlords. If you want to read about some true classics - buy a copy of the book 'I Lick My Cheese and Other Notes: from the Frontline of Flatsharing,' by Oonagh O'Hagan. It's a collection of nasty notes and petty post-its that will strike a chord with anyone who has ever shared a flat. 

It inspired me to compile a list of my own 'flat pack' history. After a succession of house shares - some successful, some not so successful, I have finally found somewhere I love and can't wait to get home to. I feel a line from my favourite song is appropriate here and will give hope to any sharers currently dreading going home tonight - one day you'll find a place you love.

'I don't get many things right the first time, in fact I am told that a lot. But I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls brought me here.' (Benfolds, 'The Luckiest')

Flat pack

Reason for move: Second year of University, 2002-2003

Location: Santa Ynez Apartments, University of California, Santa Barbara.

Number of flatmates (including me): four

Positives: Beautiful apartment with a huge sun deck, overlooking the beach on one side and the Santa Ynez mountains (home to Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch) on the other. The fact that it was in California.

Negatives: Apartment was unfurnished and, as we were all international students, it remained that way for most of the year. Had to share a room with a nocturnal girl addicted to MSN - aagghhh - even now the tapping of a keyboard is enough to send shivers down my spine.

Reason for move: Third year of university, 2003-2004

Location: Old Tiverton Road, Exeter, Devon, UK

Number of flatmates: eight (!)

Eight girls in a house is a recipe for disaster in anyone's book, but actually this house share was surprisingly successful. I had the smallest room known to man right at the top of a narrow terraced house- it was strung with fairy lights and had a carpet guaranteed to worsen any hangover.

Positives: Watching a lot of bad reality TV, having loads of laughs and bad wine.

Negatives: desperate attempts to get our mean, underhand, money grabbing landlord out of his gated abode in Torquay and over to fix our washing machine/fridge/shower. (You know who you are, Mr Ford). And thanks for the return of the deposit, by the way - hoping that bought you another CCTV camera for your Mcmansion.

Losing my 20,000 word dissertation when the computer said no.

Reason for move: Working visa to Australia 2004-2005

Location: Mary Street, Richmond, Melbourne, Australia

Number of flatmates: four

A beautiful old colonial style house with a wraparound porch and view of the park. I loved this house. My room was the size of my current flat, we had a lemon tree in the garden and I loved my flatmates. This was flat sharing heaven. Until two of the other flatmates fell out and one ended up going to court to take out a restraining order against the other one. (I'm not joking).

Reason for move: Moved back to London 2005-2006

Location: Fulham Palace Road, London, UK

Number of flatmates: three

Positives: Absolutely enormous flat with huge roof terrace overlooking Fulham Palace.

Negatives: opening your front door to the never ending roar of traffic, strangers crashing on our sofa indefinitely, every cupboard crammed with junk left by the ghosts of flatmates past, tiny (and I mean ridiculously small) room, weird flatmate.

Reason for move: see above comments - 2006-present

Location: lovely leafy road in West Kensington, London, UK

Number of flatmates: one (plus me)

Positives: This flat is the first place that has felt like home. I have painted and decorated the whole place (it's pretty tiny) and learnt more about DIY than I ever thought I would. I have spent a fortune on cushions and curtains and all that stuff - and have got ridiculous amounts of pleasure out of making it a place I can't wait to get home to. It's full of all my favourite things and favourite person (and his bike leathers which are less of a favourite). It has a tiny balcony overlooking the rooftops of west London.

Negatives: See above re leathers. But that's not the flats fault.

Family planning

February is usually a miserable month during which I ask myself, at least once a day, what exactly I think I'm doing living in England.

By March, I've forgotten what my flat looks like in midweek daylight and I've had it up to here with cosy sofa suppers. Valentines day makes a valiant attempt to inject some light into mid Feb but, after elbowing my way past crowds of Kronenburgs (you know, those women in leather miniskirts who look 16 from behind and 64 from the front) and panic buying an enormous Clintons bear, it always feels a bit like New Years Eve - the pressures on and it's inevitably a bit 'meh.'

Plus who wants a giant bear in a teeny London flat?

But before I drown in a vat of my own cynicism and wander off into the sunset muttering about the commercialisation of Feb 14th, I'll just come out and say it. I cannot wait until this February.

Why, I hear you cry. (If you havent already rated this blog a zero and logged off in disgust or are a Clintons employee).

I'm off to New Zealand to visit my boyfriend's family.

Positives to this statement- sunshine is a good few months closer than it would be otherwise, even if it takes two days and the cost of a small mortgage to reach it.

Negatives to this statement - it will be the first time I've met them and stepping off a plane after 30 hours wearing a hideous tracksuit and the imprint of a seat mark on the side of my face wasn't exactly the 'meet the parents' outfit I had in mind. 

Why are we always so desperate to impress? Shouldn't the fact that we have lured in their precious offspring be enough? Or maybe that's the problem. The NZ crew may well already loathe me - I'm a factor in their son's choice to live on the other side of the world  - and what could be worse than that for a close family? (Don't worry, I'm under no illusion it's only me, he has a great job too- although I did say to him once - 'sometimes I really wonder, is it me or is it Honda?)

My parents have already laid the 'don't move to New Zealand one day' groundwork..."Darling, obviously you must do what makes you happy, but...."

This has been a whole new experience for me - the art of a long distance relationship with people you haven't met yet.

They don't know much about me, I don't know much about them, though skype has been offering a helping hand in that department.

I don't feel someone truly knows me until they have met my family and seen what a key part of my life they all are. Thus, I don't truly know the person I live with. But come February, I will. 

The weird thing is, I care about these people. I've built some sort of relationship with them that transcends the need to be in the same room and know what they do on weekends.

People I've never met are a part of my life. How do I greet these familiar strangers at the airport? 

We went Christmas shopping at the weekend and I shouted down a tartan handbag - saying 'it just wasn't right.' Wasn't right? How the hell would I know? Skype means I've never seen the Lewis family from the waist down. I've never spoken to them without a time delay.

Moving abroad throws up issues you just don't think about. Obviously, for most people, the main thing they miss about home is family and friends. 

But what happens when you're on the other end of the coin and feel like you are missing out on people you don't even know? I guess there is always a massive compromise to be made when one of you is from another country. I just didn't think I would be the one feeling compromised when I'm still at home. 

You're just too good to be true

I was in Switzerland this past weekend, looking over beautiful Lake Geneva to the French town of Evian on the other side. Do you know anything about Evian, other than the fact that it produces mineral water? A lot of mineral water. I'll tell you one little useless piece of information- the word Evian is ‘Naïve' spelt backwards.

I cant help thinking that was a joke on the part of the French, raking in cash from foreigners desperate for a taste of the good life, bottled.

So, being naïve... that's certainly something I put my hand up to. But one buyer was so naïve when it came to his first property purchase that he didn't listen to the whispers of ‘it's too good to be true.' And, as the saying goes, in this case, it really was.

Too good to be true. I've heard this applied to so many things over the years - men, yoghurts, job offers...

But now it's taken on a whole new meaning in the form of an unfortunate first time buyer.

The Daily Mail (sorry, I'm a fan) told the story of Ashley Parsons, who bagged himself a bargain. Or at least he thought it was a bargain.

Ashley paid the knock down price of £33,000 for a 150 foot tower 60 year old medieval style tower in Somerset.

He was thrilled with the tower, which is situated on a former RAF base and planned to do it up before selling it on at a large profit.

But when he tried to do what you would expect someone who had just bought a property to do- go inside it-he found he couldn't.

The firm that owns the surrounding land - Annington Properties - would not grant access rights by foot or car. Indeed, the only access Ashley can get is by air.

He would literally have to skydive onto the roof in order to get to his own property. "The only way I can access my home legally would be by jumping from a helicopter on to the roof.

"The nearest public road is 30 metres away but even though there is a connecting path I'm not legally allowed on it," said Ashley.

Still, it's not all doom and gloom - Ashley is allowed into the property whilst he is renovating it, but once that is finished he will be banned once more.

Doesn't seem much point in doing it up you may think...

Annington Properties said it was made very clear before the auction that the property was landlocked and that they did not want the tower redeveloped.

So, the moral of this story is: think through any property purchase carefully and if the deal looks too good to be true, it probably is. 

A true case of ‘you get what you pay for.'

Is home where the heart is?

Why am I thinking so much about emigration lately? Maybe it's because I don't see my flat in daylight all week - these English winter days seem to be shorter than ever.

I can't help remembering those endless days when I was living in California - the place was suspended in permanent sunshine and life was sweet.

Amazing to think that some people get that Friday feeling all year round. Still, there's a lot still to love about England, isn't there?

Er...well there must be something. Oh, I know- my fabulous family are here. But, in truth, they're not - half of them are in Australia and half of them are in Denmark.

Since emigration is such big news at the mo, I've been reading millions of posts on moving abroad sites of late and found that there are four things that crop up on almost every Expat's list of what they miss about England.

Can you guess? Well there's the obvious two - family and friends; then there's English papers and...wait for it...Marks & Spencers!

Marks & Spencers?! Have things really come to this? Has the green and white logo become so much a part of British life that it makes it onto the most missed list, preceded only by loved ones?

Most Brits with itchy feet are heading for Spain, France, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, (btw, have you seen that enormous NZ tourist board rugby ball by Tower Bridge yet?)

The last three share the same appeal - wide open spaces, outdoorsy activities and wholesome family fun. France and Spain are both within easy reach of the UK and you can still pick up properties there for less than the price of one over here.

Check out my story on moving to France on TheMoveChannel.com's features section- it tells you about visas and permits and all those boring aspects you don't want to think about when a new life is glittering on the horizon like an oasis.

They say home is where the heart is, but what do I do when my heart is homesick for his hometown, just outside Auckland. Homesick for family and friends and hokey pokey icecream and rugby and open roads on which to ride his motorbike. And who am I to stand in the way of that?

One side of the storey

I want to get married one day.

A simple enough ambition, but one that gives me a one in three chance of being a divorce statistic by the time I blow 46 candles out, 20 years from now.

One friend just hosted her second ‘my divorce is final' party. She is 29. A sad state of affairs to say the least - no pun intended.

It seems like it is just too easy to get a divorce these days. Did you know you can get divorce papers from a cash point in America? That may go someway to explaining why America has by far the highest divorce rate in the world and why the divorce court has become as much a part of the American existence as McDonalds or baseball diamonds.

My parents waited ten years to get married. My mum wanted ‘to be absolutely sure.' Last month I attended my Grandparent's 60^th wedding anniversary party with my parents, fresh from their 30^th. Do you want to know the best thing? They are all still happy-they aren't just staying together for the sake of it.

I hope that's me one day. Still, if that sad D-day does ever roll around in my life, I may well take drastic action and follow the example of a Cambodian couple who sawed their house in half after their split.

In order to avoid the country's convoluted divorce process, Moeun Rim and his wife, Nhanh, split the building in the remote Prey Veng province.

Mr Rim removed his share of the property and the couple divided their land into four parts; two for their children, and two for them.

The husband's friends helped him move his wife's belongings to one side of the property, before chiselling and sawing half of the building off.

The wife will stay put with the upright half while her husband has carried away his half to start again on the other side of the village.

Now that is a good story. It's got a bit of everything- comedy, tragedy and romance (even if it had gone cold. Very cold).

I'll go out on a limb here, from the naïve vantage point of never encountering what it is like to be stuck in an unhappy marriage. Of course, there will be millions of exceptions to my next statement, but, to me, divorce isn't a liberation worth celebrating, it's a tragedy that it didn't work out.

After all, humans and (Cambodian) houses would surely be happier with their other half.

Polls apart

I watched a truly terrible film last night...

Before you ask, no it wasn't the new James Bond- described in the Daily Mail as 'the worst Bond yet.'

No, it was something even more vacuous - the laughably titled 'Made of Honour.'

Now, hiring that out was a bit of a risk, especially as I had moved in with my boyfriend the day before and now have someone else to consider when filling the living room with American film drivel. 

It made me think- which I dont think was its intention judging by the script. The opening scene was two college students dressed up as Bill 'I did not have sexual relations with that woman' Clinton and Monica 'that navy dress' Lewinsky for a Halloween fancy dress party.

This was as close to politics as the film came-almost as close, in fact, as Legally Blonde 2- Red, White and Blonde,' - er, yes, I have seen that too.

So it got me thinking, like I said. The presidential election is tomorrow and McCain may soon be out of the race faster than one of his namesake microwave chips. I hope so.

The election, (is it just me or does the race seem longer than ever before?) now it is in its final throes, seems to have almost taken a back seat to the ongoing financial nightmare that has held the stars and stripes in its clasp these last few months. 

The global efforts to avert recession have been so dominating financial markets this week, with Australia, India, China and others cutting interest rates and Britain set to do the same, that we have almost lost interest in the McCain/Obama catfight.

At a time when homes are being repossessed faster than you can say 'good riddance George Bush,' Obama has just shelled out more than £1 million on a thirty minute television advert. He may be hot favourite to move into the White House but that tactic seems a bit extreme. 

Many Americans are hoping the election will improve the housing situation but, with the current financial backdrop, I think its unlikely to be an immediate market mover. 

Saying that, the promise of resolution after long months of campaigning led to positive gains in the sharemarket - it opened higher today after Wall St closed on Friday night with the biggest weekly gain since 1974. 

What the outcome of the election will definately bring is a degree of certainity- something which Americans have been desperate for and that should help to restore a degree of consumer confidence, which can't fail to help the market. 

In that vein, it doesn't matter who wins. (But vote Obama anyway).

So, to finish, back to the big screen, and, like Mulvaney says in my boyfriend's favourite film, 'Goodbye Pork Pie,' 'There's only one thing certain in life, and that's doubt. I think.'

Staring Halloween in the face

This is my first foray into the world of blogs. I'll spare you all the 'where have you been'  comments- I always was a late starter.

So, on my last Monday of being a 25 year old, I have finally taken that step and started my own blog, to open the doors on what it's like being a property writer in a rollercoaster climate.

Do you remember those tests you were forced to take at school to determine the career path you would choose in the future?

I got funeral directing... Don't ask me why- I wear black a lot but that's the only reason I can think of. It was only later, after writing about property for national newspapers and magazines and now for TheMoveChannel.com, that I realised the world of property and the world of funeral directing draw certain comparisons. 

Bear with me here...life is cyclical - in old age, we often revert to being cared for as we once were as children. The property market is also cyclical-the booms of the last five years being the high octane teenagers and the declines in the past months being the pensioner becoming ever more reliant on that stannah stair lift. 

But, as circles tend to do, it will come back on itself and no boom or bust will last forever. 

Onto comparison number two. Funeral directors will never go out of business. Nor will property. Yes, it may suffer slow periods and there will be casualties, but people need somewhere to live and always will. Thus, there will always be demand and there will always be people interested in talking and reading about property. 

Free love

Another thing that will always attract a tidal wave of interest is the word 'competition' or 'free,' especially in the current climate.

I've written a lot about property competitions of late. Winning a £1million house for the price of a lottery ticket, becoming landlord of an £8.5 million commerical office space in central London for the price of an MP3 player, the list goes on.

As our credit continues to be crunched, the attractions of such miraculous-fingers crossed-four leaf clover chance encounters are stronger than ever. 

Wouldn't it be brilliant to defy the downturn in such a fantastical way? To sweep all Wall Street worries under the (luxury persian) carpet. To brush all Bradford & Bingley barriers down and leave all Lehman Brothers legacies far behind.

Like life, the property game is so much more fun when you take some chances...

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