So my sister, Leanne, is looking to buy a house, and apparently this is the world’s biggest deal. She’s constantly plugged in to three different real estate apps, and has been texting me daily to report some new dream home she’s unearthed. To be honest, I’m sceptical about most of her finds – either they’re insanely out of her price range or there’s something seriously undesirable going on.
Over the long weekend, I finally agreed to go with her to check out a block of land south east of Melbourne. It was a cool area, but it wasn’t clear from the real estate agent’s online description whether or not it could be connected to power or support a building permit. Plus, the agent had evidently forgotten to email Leanne the Section 32 Statement. Help in Melbourne for this kind of thing can be hard to come by on a public holiday, so we were left to our devices in pondering the possibilities of this find.
With no info on hand regarding rates, zoning, building restrictions and the like, we instead turned our attention to assessing the notion of erecting a tree-house among the old trees up the back of the property. They were pretty huge, and looked relatively strong for the most part. There was one that looked like it might come crashing down at any moment, though. That got us to thinking about property insurance, and then vulnerability to bush-fires… frankly, it’s a lot to take on.
This has all made me aware of the need to get some professionals in on this action. If Leanne expects me to get knee deep in deciphering the legal ins and outs of buying property, she’s got another thing coming. Recruiting conveyancing services in Melbourne’s south-east should be her first port of call, I reckon. Let them harass the real estate agents for the vendor statement.
Meanwhile, I’ll be on hand to advise on the placement of rope ladders and flying foxes that will feature in the treehouse of dreams, which is obviously going to happen.