The Conveyancing

It was the fastest sale in Ireland (well according to my estate agent). I was a cash buyer and the owner wanted to sell yesterday. Everything was shoved along. I think the solicitors had scorch marks. They, who are usually notoriously slow. Mine was my ex-husband’s cousin’s wife. Nepotism is alive and well in Ireland, even after the “D” word.

From acceptance of my offer to getting the keys was one month exactly. I  remember the day signing for the deeds vividly. It was sunny. Actually it had been sunny for almost every viewing I had done except ironically viewing my house the first time. It was miserable and it didn’t put me off. Anyway I digress. For some reason I thought the deeds would be a big dusty tome full of history and with dates and information about the house. Orla’s office shelves were lined by big heavy looking folders and she heaved one out. I waited expectantly. I wanted to know how old the house was. It was more than one hundred years, of that I was sure.

So you can imagine my disappointment at what they were. A few modern looking pages without an ounce of information. My insurance company had insisted on knowing how old the house was. I still had no idea. Later the builder told me when he was re-roofing it an old boy had cycled past and told him he couldn’t understand why it was being roofed when they had done a perfectly good job in 1948.

Orla insisted I went and checked the boundaries were as per the plan she had. My estate agent told me that when the old plans were digitised (I think this was the expression she used but you get my drift?) that some boundaries were going through people’s sitting rooms. Luckily mine were fine. She also insisted I get in touch with Wexford County Council to ask about the development plans for the county. The woman in planning was highly amused to hear she wanted me to confirm there wasn’t going to be planning permission granted for a block of apartments on the adjacent 10 acres.

So all was good to go. I had the keys. I owned the house. I had convinced the insurance company no one on planet earth knew how old the house was. Now all I had to do was organise the move, but first the straw.