Buckle up

First you deep clean like you’re hosting the mother-in-law who has taken eye rolling to almost Olympic levels, then strangers arrive to comment on your toothbrushes. Next, the entire internet picks apart your cushion choices from the safety of a coffee shop (if that is even what they are called anymore?). And that’s before the Tsunami of questions begin. You wake up one morning with a vision. A new chapter, a fresh start. Easy to visualise, harder to actualise.

Step one: Strangers. Three of them, traipsing nonchalantly through your home like they own it. They might one day for the right price, but not just yet thank you! One offers praise like it's going out of fashion, another delivers a critique you neither wanted nor asked for, and the third just smiles enigmatically (for want of a more derisory word). Who’s right? Who’s wrong? And who’s more designeious than someone who checks in baggage for Ryanair. Other airlines are available. Thankfully. Expect an airline metaphor for the property market in your inbox soon.

Next, the cleaning frenzy. You scrub, polish, and declutter until your home is gleaming like it never has before. Ironically, it’s now so immaculate you wonder why you want to move out. Maybe you will learn from this? Ah yeah okay maybe not.

Then the doorbell rings. Another stranger, this one armed with a bag of equipment. You let them wander unsupervised, muttering about your toothbrush collection and shampoo bottles. You shrug. They’ve seen worse, you console yourself.

Within days, your home is no longer private. It’s practically a National Trust Property, without the perfectly baked scones and the liberally raised children recreating Lord of the Flies. The entire world is invited to critique every nook, cranny and colour scheme, doom scrolling over a flat white whilst dissecting your cushions, curtains and life choices.

A little later, more strangers appear in person. They peer and prod like forensic pathologists stopping just short of taking samples back to the lab for further analysis. Some are polite, many are late, and one of them, jaw droppingly, actually wants to buy it!

Then comes the long leg. That last bit of the half marathon where your legs really ache and you question not just your entry but the last 6 months of your life. Months of questions (many ridiculous), a mere reiteration of a detail clearly laid out in the particulars follow, hurdles that should have been cleared weeks ago get moved back onto the track and dates shift like sand. Time slows. Each day feels longer than the last. Is this really all there is?

And then at last, you’re there. The new place. It looked bigger when it was full of someone else’s furniture, and you don’t quite remember that downstairs loo being so awful, but still. You’ve arrived. You’ve done it. You’ve survived the ritual. And you did it in only seven months. Bravo.

So, are you ready for the journey? Buckle up. It’s rarely smooth, quite often absurd, but always worth it in the end. If you are ready to set sail, send us a flare. We can't promise to eradicate every potential pitfall, but we do have lifejackets and a flask of warm tea in a comforting tartan tin flask. Clearly this is a nautical metaphor, we are also rather good at what we do. Call us on +44 (0) 1223 5080500 or start your journey with a free online valuation.