PC 504 Houses – Buying and Selling

Last Wednesday I found myself, mid-afternoon, in The Hope Café, taking time-out to recall and reflect. You may remember that postcard ‘Wait ….’ (PC 465 November 2025), but you’d be wrong to think I was waiting for something ……. just ‘being’.

Towards the end of last year, it must have been November, an ex-Army chum Jim informed me he was moving from his house in Suffolk to somewhere near Cambridge to be closer to grandchildren. He moved in June this year – over six months between agreeing to buy the house and moving in. The wise say that this experience is one of the most stressful transactions we do and in the course of our lifetime we may do it many times. Mention moving house and immediately memories of your own experiences will flood your brain!

Hurst Cottage in Fleet; my first house – much extended!

Just as I was finding out from Google that Stamp Duty, payable to HMG in England when you buy a house, is 5% if its value is between £250k and £925k, I see Sami walk in with Lisa, so I put my thoughts on hold.

“Hey! You two! Haven’t seen you together for weeks. You been away?”

“Had a very lovely week in Salcombe at the end of July. I remember you writing about being there when it was wet and cool; this year it was glorious. So lucky! Enjoyed your postcards about Brighton’s Lanes and North Laines (PC 503 August 2026) – you should get a job working for the tourist section of the council.”

“God forbid! I’m thinking about writing a postcard about buying and selling a house.”

“Well, how long have you got Richard …?”

I interrupt. “Actually, my first experience, buying Hurst Cottage on Victoria Road in Fleet, Hampshire for £29,500 in 1978, was fine.

49a, Cavendish Road, Clapham

My ‘lower ground’ flat on Clapham Common South Side went ahead without memorable angst but the next, a Victorian terraced house on the southern end of Battersea, taught me something.”

“What was that?”

“It’s a personable business and we response accordingly. I had written to the owner, to say how much we were looking forward to completing the purchase, recognised that she had made it a charming property and knowing we would be happy there. About three weeks before we thought we would complete, the estate agent said someone was offering another £10,000 and they had an obligation to forward it to the owner. Eeek! We learned later that she didn’t entertain this new offer as our letter had touched her and she wanted us to have it. So, we were not ‘gazumped’ (note 1)”

A sketch for a Christmas card, prior to a loft conversion! A terraced house is a terraced house; 54 Bramfield Road.

Just as Lisa is about to comment, maybe offer some of her own insights, a stranger comes over:

“Sorry to interrupt” she said, “but couldn’t help but hear you talking about house purchases and thought you might like to know that my husband was a reverse-gazumper. Do you want to hear the story?” and she said it in that way, suggesting we were going to hear it, like it or not!

I am Sally, by the way. We were getting divorced, thank God, and he was really reluctant to find somewhere for himself to live, so I left and rented to encourage him; not sure it did. But we had a buyer, at our asking price. He explained he hadn’t found somewhere and they should be patient. The weeks rolled into months ….” I could tell this was a painful period for her, recalling how her life was really on hold until he found somewhere. “Then he realised property prices had risen over the period, and asked the prospective buyers, with whom we had already exchanged, ie agree the price, for another 10%!”

“Could he do that?”

“The option for the others was to pull out and after all this time they decided they had no option. I was absolutely disgusted. I complained to the estate agent that I hadn’t agreed this but the estate agent said they didn’t need the agreement of both parties and that they had to forward the instruction.”

“Wow! Sally! That’s really greedy. So sorry for you ….. but thanks for telling us. You a local?”

“No. I live up in Essex …. and must go; love The Hope Café!” and she got up and left.

Sami: “This is England right. This would be very rare in Scotland, where the agreement to buy becomes legally binding much earlier in the process through formal letters between solicitors called ‘concluded missives’. Additionally, sellers must legally provide a single survey and energy report, so that prospective buyers can’t argue that their survey found ‘x’ and ‘y’ and therefore would ask for a reduction in their offer.”

“I had that problem as the executor of my maiden aunt’s estate, selling her house on the north side of Clapham Common. Someone had come along, very quickly offered the asking price, and just when the sale was due to be completed, claimed his survey had highlighted major problems and wanted a huge reduction, some 20% if I remember correctly, imagining he had me by the ‘short and curlies’ and I would agree. I found out this individual had a reputation for doing this …… so didn’t agree and put the house back on the market. But this was a probate sale so I was slightly personally detached!

Statistically, once an offer is accepted it takes an average of four months to complete; Jim’s took six. One in three house sales fall through before exchange. The Ministry for Housing, Communities and Local Government has said: ‘We’re stopping gazundering by introducing legally binding agreements that prevent buyers from walking away at the last minute without a valid reason, with fines for those who do.’ But not until 2029!

Our Hove apartment is in this magnificent 1890s building

I could tell that Lisa wanted to add some of her own experiences, but I had to dash, as I had to fashion a pinhole viewing device for the evening’s solar eclipse!”

Richard 14th August 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribles.co.uk

PS The only other house I owned was in the village of Rowledge, for 15 months.

Note 1 A gazumper is a person who steps in with a higher offer on a property after the seller has already accepted an offer from someone else, but before the contracts are legally signed.

PC 502 Heading to The Hope Café

After lunch on Tuesday, before a dental appointment towards the end of the afternoon, I headed to The Hope Café for a coffee and a catch-up. In a little bag I had some toothpaste and a toothbrush, as I needed to clean my teeth before being subjected to an oral examination. Nothing worse than one’s dentist berating one for poor dental hygiene. This reminds me that we make sure our apartment is clean and tidy ….. before our fortnightly cleaner’s visit; funny what we do, huh? ‘There are standards, Caruthers.

In my mind I was collecting thoughts for this week’s scribbles and suddenly thought: ‘I have enough …… I don’t need to have a conversation with anyone!’ ….. so popped into Café Nero on Church Road, got a double espresso, plugged in my laptop and looked at my notes.

My regular readers will know Celina and I visited both the North and South Islands of New Zealand last autumn, and on the latter drove from Christchurch to Lake Tekapo. The weather was glorious:

The little stone Church of The Good Sheppard, built in 1935 to honour the first English settler families in the area, is one of the most photographed buildings in the country. On Facebook a couple of weeks ago it looked completely different; I read that Lake Tekapo had recorded minus12.5C!

In my normal perusal of the obituary column in The Times, I found that the former Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, has died aged 74. He had deposed his father and was credited with bringing Qatar into the C21st. What I found amazing was his ability to procreate! He had married three times; his first wife Mariam, a cousin, gave him 2 sons and 6 daughters, his second, Moza, 5 sons and 2 daughters and his last, Noora and another cousin, 4 sons and 5 daughters, a total of 11 sons and 13 daughters. Quite a brood. The practice of marrying a first cousin, and the obituary didn’t say whether two of his wives were first cousins, is debateable. For example, it’s legal in the UK and in about 50% of the States in America, while banned in many other places. Statistics show that children of first-cousin marriages have a 5% risk of ‘autosomal recessive genetic disorders’ compared to the 3% of the children of unrelated parents. It’s certainly a common practice in the Pakistan community in Leeds where, according to a television documentary, the percentage of abnormal births is very high.

Back from a week in Estoril in Portugal earlier this month, I read another obituary, that of a judge, André Cerdini. What caught my eye was the subtitle: ‘Provincial magistrate praised for his calm restraint during the prosecution of ‘The Butcher of Lyon’ (Klaus Barbie), four decades after the US helped him to escape justice.’ Barbie had been ‘notorious as a sadistic figure, relentlessly pursuing both the city’s Jewish population and its French Resistance members. He was responsible for hundreds of murders and deportations to concentration camps.’ He was one of the monsters in human form, the subject of my PC 324 ‘Monsters’ from March 2023.

You might think that our yoga studio has some background music before class and that it’s all yoga-stuff, spiritual, chanting, Indian etc. Most of the time the music that’s playing as students check-in is the choice of the individual teaching. Last month Eve was playing music that I instantly recognised, from a 1960’s British folk-rock band called ‘Pentangle’. Their single ‘Light Flight’ became popular when it was used as the theme music for a BBC drama series ‘Take Three Girls’ – incidentally the first drama series to be televised in colour.

My postcards reach a wide variety of individuals, maybe the readership expanded by people sharing them with others. Back in March, a photograph from September 1965 of Burma Company Intake 39 at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst (RMAS) caught the eye of Nick Whittle, who was researching an uncle’s career and thought he might have been an Officer Cadet at RMAS in my time. Eventually, through a very helpful individual at The Sandhurst Collection, a Dr Sebastian Puncher, we established that Stephen Hall-Jones had been in Normandy Company in Intake 37 (September 1964 – July 1966) and was commissioned into The Inniskilling Fusiliers. Sebastian sent Nick a cache of information that enabled him to fill out the details of his uncle’s life.

At about the same time, a Nick MacAndrews got in touch about a fellow Officer Cadet in Burma 39, Martin Ward-Harrison. I will write about him in a subsequent postcard.

My parents’ house in Balcombe had an enormous garden and at one time the gardener was a chap called Buswell, who cycled about 4 miles from his home. He was a red-cheeked chap, full of enthusiasm for life, although his actual knowledge of plants was minimal! He needed careful supervision. I remember him for all sorts of reasons but particularly for the way he said ‘binoculars’. Why this particular useful piece of equipment came up in the conversation I don’t know but he pronounced it ‘binockerknickers’. And why it came to my mind this week is a mystery!

          I mentioned we’d been to Portugal (See PC 499 Évora 10 July). The new entry arrangements – fingerprinting etc – took no time at all, although we had to have our passport checked by a human being. When we flew back, I presented my passport to check-in my suitcase, got through an electronic gate using my passport, but then had to go to a border force official in a kiosk, showing my passport again ….. then to get into the boarding gate waiting area had to show it again ….. and then again when we started boarding! Absolute nonsense! Then to cap it all, my suitcase took the long route, eventually delivered home by personal courier 36 hours later at 0200.

Last week’s postcard PC 501 ‘Living and loving more, or victim’, the follow-on from PC 485 ‘Live more, live less’, was well-received: ‘Beautiful PC this morning’; ‘This PC really spoke to me’; ‘With 485, this time you’re getting deeper and closer …’, while Eddie commented he only had 7 months left to confound the statistics! If it’s still in your ‘will catch up later’ folder (?) I suggest you spend 5 minutes and read it (well, 10 if you didn’t read the first!)

Richard 31st July 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 495 Hope Café Catch Up

It’s been a while since I was able to get to the Hope Café, to enjoy a relaxing coffee and catch up with whoever’s there. Tuesday was a busy day; after our obligatory 90 minutes of hot yoga, an hour of a new sequence called ‘Shape Shifting’ (Note 1) and lunch, we both went to the Hove Skin Clinic for our annual Mole Mapping. Having had a ‘malignant Melanoma In-situ’ removed in November 2023 and a ‘Basal Cell Carcinoma’ taken off last year, I can’t be too careful, so have an annual check-up. On Wednesday I had lunch with my best friend Stewart in Bill’s in Reigate.

On Thursday I found both Sami and Mo, sitting at different tables but to all intense and purposes alone; we got together at a table near the Brazilian deli counter. You may remember Mo’s mother died earlier in the year and I was pleased she was back to her chatty, urbane self.

“I was thinking of you the other day Richard, as I waited to pay for some fruit from Dean’s. I think you wrote about him in one of your postcards. Hang on ……”

Dean’s fruit and vegetable stall on the north end of George Street

…. and Mo dives into her iPhone and somehow pulls up my postcards from 2017!! (PC 103)

Here it is. You wrote how …….

“…… having picked up four egg cartons from the side of Dean’s stall, I come around to the front. It’s become such a regular occurrence that it goes something like:

Dean: “Hello! How are you? Just your usual? ….. How many have we got?  …. Remind me, it’s the £1.09s, isn’t it?….. So that’ll be £4.36 ….

(another regular appears)

Good morning, Doris! How are you?……. Sorry! Be with you in a minute.

……. So, is that everything? These strawberries are the first of the season. No! We had the Spanish ones but these are from the Netherlands.”

“Smell good an’ all” says Jim standing beside the stall from where he’s been talking to Dean about the football when there aren’t any customers ….

“I don’t want to smell ‘em, Jim, I want to know how they taste.”

Dean: “Sorry Doris, two secs! ….” turning to me … .So, two dozen eggs and a punnet of strawberries; £7.35 call it £7. Thanks for that …. three pounds change then ….. See you next week ……

“Now, Doris what did you want? Yes, the beetroot are cooked, real sweet, I can tell, had some for my tea yesterday.”

“Not sure how you managed to find that, Mo, but let me give you another little vignette into life on Dean’s stall.”

“Go on ..”

“On Monday I went there to buy a Fennel, such a versatile vegetable ….. and there was a large cardboard box of cherries on the trestle table. A woman is waiting to be served.

“How much are the cherries, Dean?” she asks.

“£15 a kilo …..

The woman’s face says it all; she can’t get her head around £15 a kilo, all she wants is a handful and now she’s not sure whether they are expensive or not.

“I don’t want a kilo, Dean. How much is a handful?”

“Oh! OK!” and reaching for a paper bag, picks up a handful, tips them into the bag, puts the bag on the scales and says “£3.25

She pays …. and walks off.

As Dean’s weighing my Fennel, I say: “Why didn’t you say to the woman ‘They’re about £3 a handful’….. and not confuse her with how much you paid?”

“Because they’re £15 a kilo ……”

I was about to say something and thought, you know what, best left alone!! Life huh! Gorgeous!”

Both Mo and Sami are laughing. “That’s funny, isn’t it. Anything else?” asks Mo.

“Well, there was a lovely letter in The Times the other day from a Susie Marwood. She wrote about going to buy a pair of shoe trees in a huge, local, home improvements superstore. “Unable to find any, I asked the young assistant who, momentarily discombobulated, then led me into the garden and patios section and gestured proudly towards a large selection of shrubs and saplings.”

Love the word ‘discombobulated’ – so expressive! Actually, many people simply wear some form of trainers and don’t need shoe trees.” 

“Ah! Not true” exclaims Sami. “I have some very expensive trainers and always put a pair of shoe trees in them.”

“I live and learn! Sami, you and Lisa went to Dubai, no, Sicily last month, didn’t you?”

“Yup! Lisa and I had a wonderful time, not too hot, not too crowded, as it was before the summer holidays. We flew to Palermo, picked up a hire car and drove to Marsala. Three days later we drove to Agrigento for a couple of nights, as we wanted to visit the Valley of the Temples.”

“These are …..?”

“An UNESCO World Heritage site featuring some of the best-preserved Greek ruins outside of Greece. Really enjoyed strolling around these ancient stones and, staying locally, one could see them illuminated at night. Stunning! The local beaches were disgusting, covered in litter and detritus, but we didn’t go there to sit on the beach!!”

“You may remember my postcard about our time in Sicily – “The Largest Mediterranean Island (PC 134 October 2018)”. We were just south of Syracuse.”  

“God, that was ages ago, but I do remember little snippets – something about the difficulties of trying to return your Avis hire car to the depot at Catania airport. Do you realise that was before Covid?”

“There was life before Covid! But listen you two, back in 2020 I recounted a dream I had had about a UK shortage of Smarties (PC 178 April 2020), drawing heavily from my experience of working in the MOD Procurement Executive 1980 – 1982 and its committees! I noted that a tube of 32 Smarties in 2020 cost 60 pence. I rather gave up chocolate, especially my favourite Cadbury’s Whole Nut, last year after my severe food poisoning on a flight with TAP from Rio de Janeiro to Lisbon. Time is always the healer and now I buy the occasional tube of Smarties from Rahmi Gurgur’s convenience store on Hove Street. In six years, the cost has gone up 50% and I only counted 31; 2.9 pence per smartie!  

(To be continued)

Richard 12th June 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Three foxes enjoyed playing in Amber House’s garden early on Sunday Morning.

Note 1 In theory ‘Shape Shifting’ is ‘the ability to physically transform one’s body usually through magic, inherent power, or divine intervention. In practice Mary Jarvis chose a series of Hatha Yoga postures specifically to move one’s own yoga practice to another level.