As I write this, little Lily is patiently drying her sob-sodden fur and I'm wiping away the tears: today we received the news that our landlady is selling up. "Fuuuuucccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!" was my initial response at 10am this morning, "What a fucking bitchhhhhhh!!!!". But as the day has gone on, my anger has subsided and I just feel defeated. What is it with this post-recession delusional obsession with the pursuit of property? I'm sick of it. Even my commute this morning wasn't immune thanks to Stylist magazine's bullshit lead feature on how we can all get a step on the property ladder if we just dream big enough - yeah, thanks a bunch Stylist, your "cut-out-and-keep-guide to buying a house" is just what I need to magically conjure up a £60,000 deposit! I have spent ten years living in daily fear of the break clause on my lease being exercised. Ten years of ludicrous letting agent fees. Ten years of improving someone else's property while paying their mortgage. Well, ten years has really taught me something: it doesn't matter how much you earn, if you don't have a rich mummy and daddy holding a safety net under you then you'll always be screwed over (at least in London, anyway). Maybe I'll feel differently eventually. But right now I feel like I'm living in a world full of people who are "looking to buy" as if it's just some casual affair, no big deal, I'm not in a rush, when the reality is they're not looking to buy at all, mummy and daddy are fronting the money. I recently had lunch with a couple of (really very nice) girls from work, and the conversation moved on to how they were both "looking to buy right now" - phrases such as "I'm looking at properties around 440 [N.B. thousand]" and "now's the time to buy because the market is going to become stagnant next year" left me feeling dirty inside. Where do people get this advice from - Kirstie Allsopp?! A close friend of mine, who has a very similar background to me (working class (I hate that term), absent-ish father, self-funded through uni etc), has moved into her boyfriend's parents' house in an attempt to save some hysterical amount of money for a deposit, and nine months later they've barely scratched the surface. The reality is that his parents will eventually get fed up and front the money (sorry KP if you're reading this, but you and I both know it's true). Even now, as I flick through the channels on TV, I'm bombarded with "Escape to the Country", "Under Offer: Estate Agents on the Job" and "Location Location Location", tempting me with a life I'll never have. Why do we do this to ourselves?
Well, I'm really stuck. I guess it's back to the drawing board.