In which I think we may actually be moving...

I think we may have bought a house. I say I think because I get confused (and Lord knows I don't actually need any help on that score) I get confused because the English system for buying a house is different to the Scottish one.
Do you need an alert that I am about to do a "things are so much better when they're wrapped in tartan" alert? It may come across with a whiff of Scotia, consider yourself warned. Read on McDuff

When I lived in Edinburgh, I moved 3 times so 6 times I bought or sold a house. It seemed quite straightforward to me. Every Thursday there was a newspaper printed by the Edinburgh Solicitors Property Centre and it had the details of every property up for sale in Edinburgh. They also had a big website but I started buying houses a long time ago as I am a very old auntie, so we started with the paper guide and worked up to interwebs.

All had open viewing on Sundays 2-4pm and some also had viewing on Thursdays 7-9pm. This means you don't have to have a clean and tidy house every day in case you have a viewer, just twice a week, slightly more manageable for the more slatternly amongst us, you know I mean my children don't you? I am a very tidy sort of an auntie, the children - not so much.

The vast majority of people didn't use an estate agent, because you didn't need one, you showed potential buyers round yourself and if people were keen they got their solicitor to lodge a note of interest, when you had enough notes of interest you set a closing date, usually a Friday at 12 noon. Then your solicitor opened up all the sealed bids and you chose the best bid for you. The standard date of entry was 8 weeks and when you sold your house you went and chose your new one. Nobody pulled out or changed their mind or tried to get more money out of you. If you made a bid and it was accepted then you got the house, for the agreed price on the agreed day. Simple.

In the interests of fairness, you might have had to pay out for a survey on a house you didn't end up getting. You may also have paid more than a house was worth but negative equity was uncommon and it's a whole lot cheaper to buy and sell using a solicitor if you don't have to fork out for estate agents commission.

Buying in England seems absolutely fraught with tension and complication. Clearly I don't understand it at all, every time The Beautiful Husband tries to explain it to me, I cry and plead for him not to scare me, so he stops and we go back to drinking wine. He is a very patient and kindly husband, some may even say saintly, for he puts up with a lot.

But people seem to be able to change their mind, often right up until a day or 2 before moving with no financial consequence or penalty. People can offer you 1 price and the come back and try and renegotiate when you are so far in it's easier to take the hit financially rather than try and find a new set of buyers. That is just bonkers. Sometimes they pull out because they can't buy your house as someone has pulled out of buying theirs, so genuinely can't proceed. Sometimes something they like better comes along. Surely there must be a better way?

The house that I think we are buying, we are the 3rd set of buyers, it has been sold very quickly each time but somewhere along the way, the chain has collapsed. They have been doing this since last August. If this happens to me when I am selling this house I will be a gibbering wreck, your auntie is so not cut out for that level of stress.

I have been hugely afeared of this process, I don't cope with house moving stress well at all, which is why I have lived here for the last 13 years. This house was brand new when we bought it and we only bought a brand new house so the chain couldn't collapse. I needed to know I had somewhere to live and I needed to know I could get in when I needed to and I needed to know how much it would cost me. I am sure I have blogged before about my enormous need to know ness, which extends to every area of my life except my children's antics, there I have a definite need to not know.

This time round it's a trickier process as due to my mental need to know that I have a house to live in, we haven't put this one up for sale. I can't bring myself to until I know, definitely and for sure, I have the keys to the other house. This is a financially STUPID decision as we will own 2 houses for an unspecified period of time.

So really this post is to warn you, I will be stressed and skint for the forseeable future. You. dearest readers, will be required to provide consoling words , soothing tones, "there there" noises, cake and gin.

On the upside, when we move in, we will be having A HUGE party/wedding reception for all family and friends who didn't come to The Mother Country for our secret wedding and you are all invited.

The Mystery of Facebook

Now, your auntie has been very scathing about facebook. I've been asked several times if I have one and I have replied in a very derisory tone "No, because I am a grown up" Hardly a shining example of the genre but my birth certificate tells me I am, so who am I to disagree ?

So, never having succumbed to the fascination of facebook I was a tad surprised and even bemused when I received an email informing me that a Mr Unknown Male had added me as a friend on facebook and I had to click on the link to confirm this request. So being a biddable sort, I duly clicked on the link and was asked for my email address, which I gave and then my email password which I gave and lo and behold there was a facebook account belonging to me. Apparently I joined in October 2008, but on that day, nay at that very time I joined I was having the joy of a delayed flight and was stopping World War 3 breaking out between the weans in Dalaman airport.

Curious ? so was I. There was no photo of me but it had my correct date of birth and my real name, the one that's in my passport. I know this will surprise you but I will fess up to you now, dear readers, auntiegwen is not my actual name ! I've done it now, it's like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus disappointments all over again. I am sorry but there are some people in the world who don't call me auntiegwen.

Now this, unknown to me man, was very kind to say that he enjoyed my blog in his wee message, which confuses me even further because at no point in the last 2 years have I ever mentioned my real name. I have very few people who read my blog that know me in real life and so know my other name and this very kind man who has good taste in blogs is not someone I know.

Now, nice kind man, if I do know you, I apologize profusely for not remembering you, my caveats are I am middle aged, I have 3 kids, 3 different jobs and a total of 96 students, I have 2 parenting groups with a total of 43 mums and 46 babies to remember the names of and most days I can't find my keys. Memory is not a major skill.

So please explain to me before my head bursts with my overwhelming "need to know" ness

How did I get a facebook account in the first place when I didn't sign up ? Answers on a postcard please.

How did the nice unknown man know my real name if he only knows me from the blog ?

So please, nice man who wants to be my facebook friend be kind enough to email me @ auntiegwen@yahoo.co.uk and put me out of my misery of mental musing and meandering.

I am very grateful you brought this to my attention, can you imagine my embarassment if people were searching for me and found out I had no friends ? auntiegwennie no mates.