Living with my parents until the age of 23, I had finally decided tospread my wings and look for my own place. Having worked since the day I left school I had saved more than enough to give a decent chunk to a mortgage deposit and fix my place up. Admitted after a month of looking at overvalued pokey little flats inthe capital, I was starting to have second thoughts about leaving my parents. Yet listening to one of my colleagues talking about how he bought his house for almost nothing, I was intrigued. For an hour, Steve stood explaining about house auctions, especially thehouses where the banks had to foreclose. By the time he had finished, Steve had told me that his current house cost him twenty grand less than the market value and he hardly had to do a thing to it. Okay, I was intrigued. Who wouldn’t want to save twenty grand, for thatsort of money, the house could be next to a prison. After all, it was only a place to eat and sleep, and occasionally chill out in. Working four on and four off, every minute that I wasn’t working, I waschecking out properties. Within three months I had my eye on just the place. The house in question was in a council estate, although where it was situated was ideal, the main estate had only been up about eight years, but as an afterthought, and because the council had some extra room, they added five houses into a tiny little cul-de-sac on the edge of the estate. It had all the hallmarks of a decent three bedroom place and the best thing about it was, it was a foreclosure. Taking a whistle stop tour of the house one morning, the silence seemedgolden, and just made me even more determined to put a bid in up to my limit. My bank had worked out that I could borrow up to a hundred grand, more than enough to buy any place I wanted, but if I could stay under fifty, I would be really happy. Walking out of the auction a week later, I couldn’t believe my luck; thehouse had been on the market for nearly two years without any takers. The bank in complete frustration had set a reserve at twenty six thousand. The property was worth fifty grand. Much to my surprise, only one other person seemed interested in theproperty and stopped bidding after thirty one thousand. Watching the gabble fall, I could have danced in the auction room realising that I had just got my dream place for thirty two thousand. Yes, there was a reason why there was very little interest in theproperty. Heading down to start decorating, I noticed a few kids playing in thegarden next door, Okay so there was a bit of shouting and fighting but kids will be kids. Three weeks after the deal was done, I had finally bought all my stuffand moved in. then quickly realised that I didn’t have a small family living next to me….I had a bleeding army. At 7:15am the shouting started, until 9am, then suddenly the house wouldgo quiet until 3pm, suddenly the place would take on a little life, by 4pm, the shouting had intensified, usually lasting up until about 9pm. If it wasn’t shouting it was loud music, if it wasn’t loud music it wasa kid crying and screaming their head off. I had only been in a week and hadn’t even met my neighbour and yet I hated them already. Nine days after I had finally moved in, I stood out in the back gardenwondering what to do with the garden when the summer finally came, when out popped Debbie with a basketful of washing in her hands. Debbie was in her early 30’s standing about 5′8 with curly brown hair,my first impression was, Debbie looked quite cute. Okay she was maybe about eight pounds off of being petite, but she still looked good even with the extra pounds. “So you’re our new neighbour” Debbie said with a warm smile before… Read the rest of The Clan…
Author: Shuggie….unpubished ones
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