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WHO ELSE IS GUILTY?
I’m one of those deplorable fannies that went house-shopping during the midst of the pandemic, hoping to crawl through this shit-show with at least one positive in the form of a discounted property purchase.
Yup, as the world was burning to the ground around me and with blood on the streets, I had the gall to salivate over the temporary stamp-duty relief (which will end on 30 September 2021). A welcomed initiative… by every bargain-hunter on the planet, apparently!
Oh, but of course, the shopping aisles got stampeded by like-minded, penny-pinching Neanderthals. The irony is, we heated-up the property market to the point that we quickly wiped away the potential savings! A gift that quickly unravelled to be overhyped junk. Not terribly surprising, to be honest.
People actually believe they’ve been scrambling around for good opportunities.
We haven’t.
Sadly, buying a discounted commodity in an overheated environment just means we’re loitering in the Harrods bargain bucket, where reasonable prices are but a mere illusion. The leftover ill-fitting XXXXXXXL Gucci tees are still overpriced. And ghastly.
Admittedly, amongst the excitement, I almost fell victim to the alluring lustre of the current property market and one of its many traps. I nearly got lumbered with a toxic wasteland and mutant children, but all for a fair price.
Lesson learned.
Did anyone else notice the voracious influx of properties near or on a flight path that shot up for sale in the thick of the pandemic? Holy moly!
All rather logical, mind you. Anyone that has been wanting to flog a property on a hideous flight path has been gifted with a once in a lifetime opportunity. Selling those buggers to anyone with ample hearing is tough on any given day, so if you’re going to attempt to pull off the heist of the century, there’s certainly no better time to do it than when the entire aviation industry has gone tits-up [with the vast majority of planes grounded]!
House shopping close to a major airport
Have I ever told you that I live in Hertfordshire, near Stansted Airport (but far enough away from the flight path to avoid having to cut my ears off)?
I have, but you never listen.
It’s a lovely part of the world; it provides pleasant rural, country Bumpkin living, but also an ease of access to the buzzing capital and the world of black boogers! It’s great.
I knew I wanted to remain relatively close, so I had to be wary of the fact that my 5 mile radius search [from my current location] will likely return properties that frequently encounter rattling windows, gusts of toxic jet fuel fumes, and least of all, the inevitable and unbearable kerfuffle generated by aircrafts grinding away as they depart and land all-bloody-day-long at the third busiest airport in the UK.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with living in hell, it’s not just not for me, and the last thing I want to do is get swindled into that situation.
According to statista.com, there were 183,000 aircrafts landing and taking-off at Stansted Airport in 2019, that averages out to approx 500 flights per day, and 21 flights per hour.
FUCK.
THAT.
There are plenty of small towns, villages and hamlets surrounding Stansted, and it’s relatively easy to identify which one’s are too close for comfort, because the house prices sharply nose-dive into the earth’s core. Yes, many of the houses are beautiful, consisting of spacious gardens and pretentious driveways, but they come at a deafening cost. If you skateboard 5 miles down the cobble road where the air is cleaner and the world is quieter, the same properties demand 50% more. Apparently fresh air ain’t cheap, and why should it be? :/
I have to admit though, my eyes have been opened. I never realised how vast the price difference can be. I totally get why many are prepared to live close to a major airport and make the compromise of bathing in poisonous fumes, and potentially breed 3-armed, telepathic mutant children. The noise can be an issue, too.
Certainly not for me, but I get it.
On a side note, my experience is not necessarily a reflection of how every house near a UK flight path is impacted. I imagine it varies airport by airport. But broadly speaking, it’s probably safe to assume that noise and air pollution is universally undesirable.
My dream home turned out to be a radioactive mutant breeding pit!
Blimey, I forgot how boring I find viewings. So boring.
I dreaded waking up knowing I had to attend them. There’s absolutely nothing appealing about trampling through someone else’s home; it’s bitterly uncomfortable, especially when the homeowner is on duty, which most were during the pandemic. Alas, that’s how I quickly realised that vendors love sharing stories and fond memories, which, quite frankly, I couldn’t give a flying shit about.
Thanks for explaining to me why you decided to place every item of furniture the way you did, and why you made the strategic decision of converting your baby’s room into a gym (that you clearly never use) after he left for University.
Are you sure he didn’t just runaway before he dropped dead of boredom?
I missed the agents.
I said it!
After an intense and exhausting stretch of viewings, I eventually found a property that I thought I could eventually call home. Location wise, it’s a little closer towards Stansted Airport than my current residence. Actually, the distance was so little that I didn’t bother concerning myself with the normal and potentially deal-breaking questions that should be asked when house-shopping near a hub of chaos.
I viewed the property three times in total, and it was notably dead quiet each time, not a birdy in sight. That was part of the mass appeal.
The property didn’t seem undervalued (on the basis that it’s positioned outside of the flight path), but I did feel ever so slightly uncomfortable with the “fair” asking price.
A fairly valued property in 2021? Shitting hell! The obvious was staring me square in the eyes and I just ignored it, like a complete ditz. I took the easy route and said to myself, “times are batshit crazy, man! Go with it.”
At one point, I did, without much real thought or intention, ask the owner whether the airport caused any annoyances. For example, should I be mindful of poisonous clouds that could shutdown my lungs quicker than he wants to get rid of this gaff? He smirked at me, took me out into the back garden, and pointed way over there towards Mars, and smugly signalled ‘not a problem’
Well, that’s not exactly irrefutable proof.
But okay.
And with 95% of flights grounded and with a price-tag that didn’t seem like it had been violated by a flight path discount, enough was in place to overpower my microscopic noggin to throw me off the scent.
After days of contemplation, I decided I was going to pull the trigger and make an offer.
Everyone, please welcome Fate into the story.
The night before I was going to make my [perfectly reasonable] offer, I was awoken at 3am by an itch; she was screaming at me to check the flight path in relation to my beautiful new sanctuary (I was getting ahead of myself). I can’t explain it, but it happened.
With one crusty eye open, I ended up with this on my screen:
Stansted Airport flight path
KIUJH*(&^*(*(*&!!!!
SHIT ME IN THE ASS!
While the property is bang-on the outskirts of all the commotion, the diagram clearly implies that aircrafts will be flying directly over the property, and it was indeed on the tail end of the flight path. The question is, how close we talking?
Well, I had no choice, did I?
Stakeout!
After crying myself to sleep, I woke up the next afternoon and made my way to the property. I was prepared to sit on the layby, just in front of the driveway, all freaking day long if I had to (a few hours, max) in order to determine what I was dealing with.
After a mind-numbingly boring 1.5 hour wait, which gave me the opportunity to remind myself of how much I don’t like the game Solitaire, my heart abruptly fell out of my anal-passage, as I heard the colossal roars of an incoming aircraft. My head frantically swivelled in all directions, and there she was in all her glory… a regrettably short 15’ish metres down the road, and scraping the rooftop of the neighbours’ property, a Boeing 737 Ryanair aircraft was approaching to land.
Fuck this!
I’m out!
Dear Lord, it was so close to the property; frighteningly close and not nearly quiet enough for such a relatively tiny aircraft. I’m convinced the pilot could have seen the mascara dripping down my face.
It was obvious that the back garden of the property is the optimal location to get an eye and ear full, rendering the garden totally useless and unpleasant without earplugs and a gasmask. But more concerning was the fact that the vendor’s earlier hand-signalling, suggesting that the flights were way over there [in another dimension], was nothing more than a display of his sharp pantomime skills, which were presumably garnered from the local drama classes held by the local Vicar (who also happens to be the resident doctor and postman).
Naturally, my mind started racing through several conspiracy theories. In hindsight, it felt like the homeowner was very particular about when he was available for viewings, so I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just foiled the master plan of an evil genius. Was the cunning rat-weasel scheduling the viewings around the handful of active flights? Probably not, but maybe. Just maybe.
Bear in mind that during normal times I would have seen and heard multiple flights during each and every viewing, no doubt about it. So this window of opportunity – literally a once in a lifetime opportunity – was the perfect moment for him to bend me over like a tattooed Victorian prostitute.
In any case, if my weakling ears can’t even handle the rattle of a feeble Boeing 737 aircraft, how on earth would they deal with regular flight schedules and heftier aircrafts with a tad of oomph? They wouldn’t.
To put the final nail in the coffin, I did some research and discovered that the property is eligible for airport noise insulation schemes (e.g. triple glazed windows), and that certainly ain’t a good thing.
Final thought, the “fair price” was just a reminder of how overheated the market is. That property should have felt like a bargain in a flea market, certainly not fair.
Right, I’ve ‘eard enough (pun intended). I guess I’m staying put for now.
Why a house on a flight path isn’t for me!
I have REALLY, REALLY, REALLY outstanding and sensitive hearing. The other kids at school used to call me Owl Boy.
Have you been shopping, or perhaps even trying to flog a dead horse? How did it go? Talk to me!
Landlord out xoxo
Disclaimer: I'm just a landlord blogger; I'm 100% not qualified to give legal or financial advice. I'm a doofus. Any information I share is my unqualified opinion, and should never be construed as professional legal or financial advice. You should definitely get advice from a qualified professional for any legal or financial matters. For more information, please read my full disclaimer.
bought a boarded up burnt out 3 bed house in a London Borough for £325k 1 March 2021, paid commercial stamp duty rates as uninhabitable
Did a loft conversion, rear extension and complete refurb £55k( its what we do), now worth just shy of 600k, rented for £2k a month , years rents in advance, tenant from HK
August 2021 bought commercial property 300k again commercial stamp duty in same borough, now have planning permission for 2 flats and shop rented £10k a year with v large national paint chain.
your just being lazy lol