City centre resident Perry Buck takes a different look at life in Birmingham...
I'm scared. Not because another year has just begun (although that in itself after all the excess of Christmas is enough to make me jump up in the middle of the night and reach for the Gaviscon) but because, as usual, I have set myself some goals for the 12 months ahead.
Theyre not resolutions as such - that sounds far too adolescent - instead I like to think of them as a kind of annual To-Do list. And unlike my typical To-Do lists at work (I often write my shopping on the bottom as the day progresses and gets more and more stressful and I look forward to dinner with an ever-increasing manic determination) this one has a degree of permanence. And top of the list (after the pre-requisite Make it through the year with as much money and sanity intact as possible) is the one thing that is seemingly guaranteed to take both all my money and all my mental peace as well.
Im going to buy a flat Is it any wonder I have been waking up with shivers of cold fear pumping through my poor body? What could possibly be more disruptive or fearful for the kind of person who cant even plan a holiday until he lands at the destination for fear of being tied down?
I dont know my conveyancing from my combi boiler, so what hope is there? The last time I read the financial pages I was checking out the interest rate of my Barclays Supersaver account, so how am I supposed to make sense of all the different mortgages out there? Isnt it just a little bit scary to take out a loan you wont have paid back until youre ready to retire? Retire? Ive only just figured out what I want to do, let alone start thinking about finishing it!
I guess this is the key to my anxiety. Buying a property definitely ranks amongst the things commonly described as putting down roots. And putting down roots suggests you wont be able to rip them up again.
Surely uprooting a mature tree, apart from killing it, makes a rather large mess on the lawn, doesnt it? It will simply be too much hassle to move on once I have a place of my own. Yet renting is a waste of money when you know where you want to live and on paper can afford to buy.
This is why fear dwells in the pit of my stomach and I break out into hot sweats every time I walk past a building society window. I am the worlds most reluctant property-buyer.
I want a B1 postcode and to be near the canal, but how the hell am I going to pay for it on a single income? How will I know if I can fit chocolate brown three-seater leather sofas into the living room until its too late and Ive already bought them? Will the shop take them back if they dont fit through the door? And how can I stop all these stupid questions?
