House Party

I am not sure what the Guinness Book of Records have as the highest number of persons crammed into a tiny house but my experience today in York must have been close.

It was one of those Open Days for a property shortly to be marketed at a National Auction House.

When I say "Open Day" the agents really mean that they are only prepared to give access for 30 minutes strictly at a pre-ordained time and on a specific day. The guidance in the on-line brochure stated that any interested parties can only gain access at that time, no sooner and no later.

I arrived a good hour before the allocated time mainly because of the limited available daylight in early December in which to get a good look at the outside but also to meet the lady from London who had come up on the train to York.

We had spoken only briefly on the telephone a few days prior to discuss what I type of survey and information I could provide her with.

Our meeting was in an establishment called Mrs Greedy's Cafe on the corner of the street just along from the house. From our table in the steamed up front window we had an offset view of the road. There seemed to be an unusually heavy flow of slow moving traffic up the narrow cul de sac but nothing was making the run back which suggested that a parking problem would soon be experienced.

After a coffee and general chat about what was required of me we made our way out into the bitterly cold late afternoon.

There was certainly a bit of a crowd massing on the pavement and spilling out onto the road in front of house number 15.

More cars, mostly big expensive ones with personalised number plates were making their way tentatively through the other haphazardly abandoned vehicles. I did not recognise any of the individuals, the usual suspects, from my previous work in York and the wide range of accents and dialects suggested that, like my Client ,many had travelled some distance to view the house.

Clutching my clipboard I was asked a few times if I was the keyholder or was bombarded with questions about guide price, what the location was like and if I was a prospective buyer.

Exactly on time a man appeared from out of the mass and unlocked the door.

The following scrum was akin to the disgraceful scenes in the shopping malls on the recent Black Friday as the crowd surged and attempted to squeeze two or more abreast through a narrow Victorian front door. I did not help the crush by dragging along my survey ladders causing a temporary blockage and a few grumbling complaints.

The steep stairs ran from only one pace inside the door and those entering had to take a sharp left turn into the cramped living room. Names and phone numbers were requested from viewers and these confirmed the wide geographical spread of visitors. STD codes I recognised were from Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool, Glasgow and even from Eire.

I simply indicated that I was with the Lady from London who by now had been joined by her builder and two prospective letting agents. Whilst our small group now numbered 5 persons we were less than one twentieth I would estimate of the newly arrived occupants of the house.

It was an eerily quiet atmosphere given the number of bodies.

Apart from the rattle of good quality leather soles (male and female) on the bare concrete ground floors no-one spoke beyond identifying themselves to the key holder. It was as though the inspection was of the utmost secrecy. An intensely personal experience.

Poker faces did not betray what the viewers were thinking and certainly not their thoughts on what they might regard as a fair and reasonable price to bid in a couple of weeks time.

There were the obvious dealer types with pointy toed brown brogues below moleskin trousers, checked shirts and sports jackets. Plaster flecked working denims and soiled sweat shirts indicated speculative builders looking carefully on how to minimise outlay but maximise profit on re-sale. A few shifty types I put down as private landlords who would probably, if successful in bidding, move someone in without doing any essential repair work at all. I did notice a few nervous couples who had hoped for limited interest in the house so that they had a chance of getting on the property ladder in a city where this had not yet been possible for them.

There was one other obvious surveyor like myself acting for a client. We gave our industry standard acknowledgement of raised eyebrows and sharp intake of breath.

I had little opportunity to speak with the lady from London in the melee and because she was in a huddle in each of the rooms with her other mercenaries. I dodged in and out of the crowded living rooms and the tiny kitchen. A few had spilled out into the back garden to be met by a wall of brambles as though forming an impregnable barrier around a fairy-tale castle. In this bottleneck there was a bit of jostling and a brief scuffle but rather comical where involving the well-to do.

Upstairs was similarly congested.

The young couples were aghast at the 1970's bathroom suite as though they recalled similar on a visit to an incontinent relative as children.

I was a bit concerned for the ability of the woodworm infested floorboards to take the loadings from a dozen persons, not helped by the builder types doing a trademark jumping up and down to check stresses. I turned my back on my ladders for a brief moment to check that the old windows were openable only to find that they had been assembled and used by a man to clamber up and look in the loft space.

Time had flown by in such interesting company and the keyholder was fidgeting as though to imply that the 30 minutes had elapsed. People were still arriving,perhaps betrayed by their sat-navs or affected by a late running train if travelling from some distance away.

My lady from London looked cold and tired after what had been a long day and we re-engaged on the pavement outside and opposite. She was not deterred in her plans to put in a bid by the high level of interest and the very basic condition and calibre of the house. In fact she appeared more determined than ever to be the successful party.

I got the impression that she would proceed with her plan regardless of what I might say in my written report.