As painful as a divorce, as proving as the loss of a family member. I had heard buying a house was high on the list of the stressful events in life, but embarked on the search enthusiastically, enticed by the allure the process has in the property finding shows I relentlessly follow on Channel 4. Grand Design and Location, Location, Location last under one hour: that’s how they manage to be compelling programmes. In a house buying process that can go on for over six months, the excitement is doomed, like passion in most marriages.

 

You may think you need to know about variable mortgages and HIP documents to conquer the world of real estate, but what you really need to know is oh-so different. Getting on the property ladder starts with a trip to the local stationary. The piles of paperwork you will be accumulating will soon clutter your carpet and take over you desk. Be prepared, and buy a folder before you spill that hot coffee on your mortgage offer.

 

Being ready for purchasing is not only about having saved up over time: make sure you also save your documents – payslips, council tax payments, bank statements and all. I must not be the only one who has been throwing them away to make space for useful staff like travel memorabilia and photos.

 

When the moment of the viewings comes, do not just go by description, maps and images of the property: google the name of the house, if it has one. That is how I found out I was about to view the ‘tough estate’ where the criminal career of a South London gun gangster started. I read the article in time to cancel my viewing, and save myself time and the prospect of being mugged. On the positive side, I also found a Facebook group of residents of an estate I was thinking of moving to, getting precious insider’s knowledge on the owner of flat 16, who plays the saxophone late at night, and on the crying babies of flat 21.

 

By buying I learned that solicitors cannot spell. I have had to throw away four agreements because my 6-letter name and the address were misspelled. We are at attempt number five, and there is still one ‘e’ too many in my name. My purchase is going to have a very high impact on the Amazon Rainforest. Let’s hope the flat with the address they keep on using instead of mine comes with a terrace and a pool.

 

What’s more, buying a flat taught me more than a whole series of Sex and the City about love. Now I know that it is not only for closeness, intimacy and for trying a spoonful of your partner’s chosen dish at a restaurant that people get together. Now I know that the foundations of relationships lie in a joint mortgage application.

 

The process taught me that, no matter how undomestic you think you are, you will end up talking about your future house endlessly, like parents with newborns. Talking of baby burping and nappy rash is not very compelling, but you forget that curtains and lamps do not make for better conversation. Decorating will take up your life. Ikea catalogues and furniture brochures now lie on my desk, where the Guardian and the classics used to be. I have replaced nights at the movies and the theatre with after-work trips to hardware stores. I spend sleepless nights thinking of curtain fabric. I can hardly recognise myself anymore. And this is why, when the solicitors spell my name right and all is over, the first thing I will do is replace furniture catalogues with holiday brochures and close the door of my much coveted flat. It will look much more beautiful after a break from it. A bourgeois property owner I may have become, but I am still nomadic at heart.