31st May 2024

I have a dream…

philippanestie Culture, Places authors, history, literature

I’ve been looking to move, and I mean move. Despite intense searching, I haven’t found anywhere; there seems to be a ‘but’ with everything. My present home needs work, and then there are my belongings. I’ve even started looking into auction properties because I want to move back to London, which certainly isn’t the most affordable place. On one auction site, a property caught my eye—a flat that I’d rather avoid due to leasehold. The guide price I could afford gave me some hope, so I decided to go and view it. No appointment was necessary; just turn up at the viewing times. So off I went into London; my destination was Westbourne Park Road, getting off at Ladbroke Grove station. OMG, I was in Notting Hill! Was I dreaming? Being early for the viewing, I took a walk around Portobello Road, and all the memories of rummaging through this market as a student came flooding back. I was walking around feeling happy for the first time in months. I felt ‘free’; it was so much more enjoyable browsing around than where I reside. I forgot places could be like this instead of being totally depressing. After enjoying reminiscing, I attended the viewing, this place as you might expect at auction, was not in a good state; almost derelict, it obviously been unloved for a while. That didn’t put me off; I loved the feel of the place and went with my gut. Getting the bus back into central London, I enjoyed the ride, going past so many exclusive addresses. At home, I registered to bid with a large deposit held against my card. Serious business.

The auction date approached, and I was thinking, who am I trying to kid? Do I really want to live in a basement flat that is currently inhabitable? How would I? Why would I want to live in Notting Hill? Now one of the most expensive places in London! The flat was being sold by a housing association with a long lease, which was good. Before the auction, the guide price crept up by £20,000. I thought, yes, it’s popular. Auction day came; it did start at the guide price of £240,000, quickly rising to £300,000, so I was out already. Then £320,000 jumps to £400,000, ending at £560,000! Someone wanted the place bad but must have funds. Because, along with auction fees, legal fees, and taxes, you’re talking more like £600,000 before renovation commences! And trust me, that’s something I don’t want to do again. So there you have it: £600,000 for a basement with nothing in it. Where it is is what matters, right near the Portobello Road. Aside from this, I started reading Ayala’s Angel by Anthony Trollope (I’m big on Victorian authors), in which one of the characters, Lucy, has to move suddenly. “She knew nothing of her uncle Dosett’s circumstances, but the genteel house at Notting Hill, No. 3, Kingsbury Crescent, was known to her and was but a poor affair as compared even with the bijou in which she had hitherto lived.” Well, I was intrigued; it was completely ‘coincidental’. The address I found no longer exists sadly, at least not in Notting Hill. Did it ever? So far, I’ve found no evidence, and though I don’t doubt Trollope, it’s just a shame that I can’t find it. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming of a more relaxed life in a ‘genteel’ yet exclusive address, but unless I come into either a large inheritance or win the lottery, it looks highly unlikely...