I found a book in our local library based on genealogical research undertaken into the life of a local man who migrated from Ireland to the USA in 1985, aged 19. After several jobs on the East Coast, he travelled to the North West, following the gold rush via Dawson City in Canada to the Klondike in Alaska. Like so many others he lived a precarious existence, never making a fortune but always making just about enough to live on.
It occurred to me that this would make the basis for a historical novel and began work on what would become my first self-published novel “Honest Hearts”. I discovered a group of local aspiring writers and joined them in the summer of 2010. I have remained a member ever since. We share examples of our work and offer encouragement and feedback.
In the spring and summer of 2010 we began a serious search for a bungalow. We looked at several in various parts of the county. We were aware that the value of our house had reduced substantially as a result of the collapse of the property market following the banking crisis of 2008. This was not necessarily the bad news for us that it might seem. The value of all properties had fallen, meaning homes that were previously out of reach were now within our price range. Some that we looked at required a good deal of work in order to bring them up to an acceptable standard. The thought of taking on a renovation project at our advanced years wa attractive but daunting.
We found a group of bungalows, designated ‘retirement village’, in part of a larger development. These were already occupied but some were being sold by their current owners. The interior layout of these did not please us. Freda, especially, dislikes ‘open plan’, or any arrangement that connects the kitchen with the space in which to relax and entertain. She prefers to keep cooking smells in one place. Then we discovered another retirement village. This one was close to a nursing home, part of the same development. The nursing home was almost complete, as were a small proportion of the bungalows, ones the council had purchased.
Sales of the remaining properties had stalled with the crash but a show-home was furnished and a renewed marketing effort underway. There were about a dozen identical detached bungalows, along with a similar number of terraced homes and an apartment block. Walking around the sloping site we spotted a home at the top of the hill that appeared to be larger than the others. Also, it occupied a larger plot. How much did the developer want for that one, we wondered. When we were told it was the same price as the others we were amazed and delighted.
We paid our holding deposit in August, accepted an offer on our house the following month, and took possession of a rented property on a six month lease. By February no work had been done on the home we thought we were buying. My inquiry revealed that the developer was awaiting instructions from us. We quickly swung into action, choosing kitchen and bedroom fittings and floor coverings.
We had to be out of our rented property by the end of April and the owner was reluctant to extend the lease. He wanted a tenant who would be willing to stay for a long period and feared he would be less likely to find such a tenant later in the year. I got our solictor to include a clause in the contract to the effect that, if we were unable to occupy the house by the end of April, the contract would be void. What we would have done had that happened I have no idea – we would have deliberately made ourselves homeless! In the event we were able to move in on April 29, 2011, although our power supply came via a portable generator for the first three weeks.