Applying for a Mortgage with a Spotty Face

Help to Buy, or Help Yourself?

Walking into an Estate Agents to ask for mortgage advise, almost felt like I was pretending to be an adult. Playing a game of house, and acting grown up. I have had to act many years older at work for a long time, but doing it outside of work felt weird. Almost like I was conning them into thinking that I am an adult.

However, my first stop was Bridgfords and their Countrywide Mortgage adviser sat me down and went through the various options. The first of which was the governments new incentivised 'Help to Buy' scheme, for first and second time buyers with a very low deposit. I was looking for a mortgage for a property around the £100k mark. I appreciate that if you are from London, this wouldn't buy you a garage, but up North you can buy a fairly respectable 2 bed house, with a garden and if you're lucky off street parking. I was looking in Macclesfield, a medium sized town in a nice country setting, so prices I suppose are higher than Manchester suburbs, but still reasonable.

The 'Help to Buy' mortgage looked golden. I could buy a £100,000 property with as little as £5,000 deposit. However, I was turned down. I thought "oh god, if I cant get a Help to Buy, I've got no chance" (not the case as it turned out). I was turned down because the repayments were around £700 per month(!!!), and with a monthly income of just over £1200 after tax, the bank weren't satisfied I could afford it. Help to Buy seems great, as long as you're raking in at least £30k a year (which I'm not, given).

Next stop was NatWest, and this time I was helping myself. Putting in as big a deposit that I could afford. All my savings from 3 years of graft, totaling a Richard Branson busting £14,000. This however, brought my monthly repayments down to £339 per month, fixed for 2 years on a 30 year term. NatWest were happy that I could make the payments, and so after a few meetings, a little interrogation, and a mountain of paper work, I was given my mortgage offer. An £86,000 loan with a £14,000 deposit.

And so, the house hunted started (to be honest it already had, so let's say continued)....

An introduction...

First Time Buyer. First Time Blogger.

I thought it best to introduce myself before I go any further.....

I am Ethan Wadsworth, 21 years old (currently [obviously, that's how time works]), I completed on my first house 2 weeks ago to the day. I have never written a blog or made a diary, for two reasons; severe lack of commitment, and I never really thought other people would be as interested in what I'm doing as much as me. Admittedly, mainly the first reason.

Despite currently boasting an audience of absolutely zero, I am assuming someone will read this at some point. 'How have you managed to buy a house?!' is a question I have heard increasingly frequently, from colleagues, works associates, family members, and friends; and may be a question you find yourself asking. So, I will lay out on the table how I managed to climb onto the first rung of the increasingly out of reach ladder.

I opted out of the university life (a subject becoming more popular with the media), despite getting A levels in Maths, Physics, Business and Product Design (admittedly all C's, much to the disappointment of my dad, and the well concealed delight of my- then- very competitive younger sister[of which I have 4]). I did get a place at university, and had committed to going after a gap year of working, rather than backpacking. My dad's advise at the time was to get some experience of the real world before studying it. 

Here is where my situation differed from 99% other 18 year olds. I began working at the only place capable of throwing me in at the deep end. I starting working for my dad. How fantastically lucky, to be able to deal with real people in a real job with real responsibilities. Responsibilities that are twice as important to fulfill when you are the boss' son. 

By no means is this my first 'job', I have always had a job since the age of 12; paper round, butchers boy etc. But it is obviously my first 9-5. My dad has always had the mentality that if you want something, then earn it. A trait which I used to despise, but have grown up to appreciate. I even remember washing the car at 7 years old, inside and out for 50p. Looking back, I did a terrible job, but I don't think that was the point.

Anyway, without boring you with the details, after spending a year being a general dogs body (factory work, site work, making tea, answering phones, and tagging along to a few exhibitions), I was offered a full time job. Needless to say, university was swiftly knocked on the head.

Dad's modus operandi was this, and I quote "you can work for me, and you can live here rent free. As long as I don't see you p***ing your wages up the wall". So that was that, my coordinates were set. I lived at home for three years, saving and saving and saving. Occasionally having a little splurge here and a holiday there, I am only human after all. In hindsight, I could have been more frugal, but then again I could have lived the life of Riley....

Once I had the money, it was time to make mortgage applications.... which is where things got very confusing and very real.