On the Prowl

I'm not the first to moan about house hunting in London, and I certainly won't be the last I can tell you that. "Its only going to get worse" says the woman at Thompson Currie. "The students are flooding in..." says Mr. Foxtons, as he licks his chops and skims the list. The dooms day prophecy shakes the walls of the office, a few papers fall to the floor. I hope my house has more solid foundations. But that's unlikely on a student budget. And if it's not solid walls, its a 'bedroom-livingroom-kitchen conversion.' I never did like to take dinner in my room, but if its a top floor property at least there won't be rats.

I've scraped the streets of London for estate agents. I make 30 phone calls a day. And I'm lucky if I get one viewing. It's a full time job. No one can afford to buy right now so the entire city is tethered to their rentals.

Today I told my latest estate agent - and hence, newest best friend - that I was becoming so familiar with the business that I might take it up. At least then I could afford a house.

But really. Who am I to complain? We all face the ugly housing market at some point in our lives, and we're never told it's getting any better. So what's the trick? Are these 11th hour pronouncement a ruse or is the shortage, truly, going to leave me homeless tomorrow? Either way the agents have me wrapped around their little finger. I don't want to take the risk. Tomorrow I'm optioning a garage. All they need to do is add the word, 'conversion' and I'm there.