As anyone who knows me on Facebook will have probably seen, Jenny and I bought an apartment last week. We were warned that the emotional high of the purchase would subside and be replaced by a feeling of panic at the mountain of debt we’d just gotten ourselves into, but strangely that didn’t happen. It might have helped that we set ourselves a strict bidding limit and stuck to it, and that we spent less than two-thirds of the amount we were initially pre-approved for.
I will say, though, that buying at auction is a terrifying experience. For the same reason that auctions are a great spectator sport if you’re into that sort of thing, they’re a massive adrenaline rush to actually participate in. And not the fun kind of adrenaline rush, like getting married or getting a job. More the kind of adrenaline rush you get from falling off a motorbike — and yes, I now know what that feels like too. I have a couple of scars coming up nicely now, and they still gave me my licence because the fall didn’t happen during the actual test.
This has definitely been a working holiday. We’ve done a lot other than catching up with friends and cuddling cats, which is why I haven’t been posting. On top of the property purchase (if anyone’s interested in renting a one-bedroom flat five minutes’ walk from Malvern station and the no. 16 and 64 trams, let me know), we’ve both passed our motorbike licence tests, we’re starting to get answers for Jenny’s immunological issues, and it looks like I’ll be getting some contract work I can do from China. Fingers crossed.
If the Christmas break was the wine and coffee tour of Melbourne, this trip has been the clothes and book tour. I’m very glad we came over with our suitcases well under the weight limit, because I’ve no idea how we’ll be able to bring all this back.
At least some of those were belated birthday presents.