I Got The Keys.. I Got the Secret

My Blacks Road home 2018

Mid-Life Crisis Part 2

In the second edition in my Mid-Life Crisis series I reflect on finally succumbing to the capitalist ideal of purchasing my first home.            

I’m getting older. Back in the day I would have happily travelled the world with but a fistful of dollars and a pocket full of dreams. These days I’m stockpiling endless supplies of southern Dairy Milk, Tayto cheese and onion crisps and red diesel for a no-deal Brexit, being genuinely terrified of identity theft and riding the Gilder Bus from West to East Belfast ‘just for fun’.

During my 20s I was European to the core, renting a home or taking a lover when the opportunity presented itself, constantly surrounding myself by fine wines and magnificent art from the renaissance period. Now on the cusp of middle age, my life is characterised by true crime podcasts, the Saturday afternoon crossword and attempting to replicate a Great British Bake Off technical challenge before promptly chucking it in the bin. I’m thinking something is missing. Just as I am applying my daily dosage of Olay anti-aging cream on one late summer's day, it hits me like a Puntastic tonne of bricks…. I will buy a house…

I consider having my pinky toe amputated and re-attached as part of a biokinetic clinical trial to fund the deposit, but I avoid this by abstaining from expense gins at the Grand Central Hotel for a week. With the deposit secure, I focus on one particular house on the Blacks Road in Belfast, just a two minute walk or sixty second sprint from a well-stocked off licence,  It's all about location. 

On the same day as Mark Carney, Governor of the Bank of England, warns that a no-deal Brexit could crash the housing market, I make an offer for the Blacks Road residence or what we adults commonly refer to as ‘property'. Lol, screw it, I like living on the edge.  A three day bidding war ensues, but I pull through with half my sanity intact.

I am obsessing now.  I continuously talk to friends about fixed-rate mortgages, product fees, conveyancing, curb appeal and interior design.  I’m 100% positive they find it riveting. At certain times I nervously wonder if the survey and searches have overlooked some crucial information about the house; a few dead bodies under the floorboards, a tarantula's nest in the attic or compelling evidence of paranormal activity, that type of thing…. But when I’m feeling optimistic I imagine myself like a flat-stomached Miley Cyrus in her Wrecking Ball video, tearing down walls with a sledgehammer to make way for an open-plan kitchen.  

Suddenly, from not being remotely materialistic, I want it all; a wine cellar, a secret passageway from the ballroom to the conservatory, a home cinema and gym, electronic gates, a butler called Jeeves and a 25 year old Venezuelan pool attendant named Alejandro. I dream about Fifty Shades of Grey before bed at night.  Paint colour that is; Polished Pebble Grey, Chic Shadowed Grey, Turtledove Grey, Feather Quill Grey... It's a minefield.  I soon realise however, that my budget for interior design, staffing and household appliances is somewhat limited, but I do manage to buy a brand new fridge magnet from the pound shop and a top-of-the-range non-stick frying pan from Lidl. But still. It is super exciting. 

Finally, after months of anticipation, I receive word that my final completion date will be Monday December 3rd.  I say 'final' because when one is attempting to purchase a new property, one is invariably provided with a series of pretend completion dates to prolong the drama of it all.  It's at bit like a Boyzone or Westlife farewell tour in this respect, you're just never quite sure when the excruciating pain will end.  Anyways, I have the keys in my hand now and they are beautiful.

One of the most satisfying things about Méabh's new manor house, is that it is officially located in the council district of Belfast.  For the past 8 years I have been residing on the wrong side of the Lisburn/Belfast boarder and I've felt like a deserter.

Belfast is my one true love.  Admittedly, it's deeply troubled and rough round the edges, but I fully appreciate the banter. I love having a cold drink beneath the sun at Cutters Wharf or enjoying a festive pint of the black stuff at Kelly Cellars.  I love Divis, Black Mountain and Cave Hill.  I love the Cathedral Quarter, the Gaeltacht Quarter, the Lagan Towpath and the International Wall of Freedom.  I love St George’s Market, Game of Thrones and the Ulster Museum and I love telling people to wind their neck in and then to shove it up their hole with a big jam roll whenever I feel like it.  I do have some reservations about Belfast's open door policy to culchie blow-ins from Derry and Tyrone, but as long as they keep supplying me with cheap car parts, I'm happy enough to tolerate their barbarism.  Anyway, I'm returning to Belfast, and to West Belfast no less.  And let me be clear... 'West is definitely best'.

Right I gotta go and get my eyebrows tinted.  It’s yet another indication of my Mid Life Crisis.  Big, dark and slug-like eyebrows are apparently the new norm and an essential part of healthy functioning modern day democracy.   Evidently, women just can’t be taken seriously without them. 

Thank you for listening. 

M.