Selling up and moving on

Why I'm selling my bungalow, plus before & afters to boost your morale if you're in the thick of it

It was already a gloriously sweltering Margate day when I stepped into my garden early this morning. Today is Summer Solstice and the air is thick and oozing with promise, the garden at its most lush. Three years ago, the patio where I’m currently sitting was an overgrown mess of thick, stumpy conifer trees, dense with ivy and populated by an army of spiders.

Same area three years ago

My ex-boyfriend and I had only just moved in, after five months of demolition, both DIY and pro. Ceilings had been knocked out and walls were still coming down, along with the fireplace. Asbestos floor tiles were being ripped up, screed was being poured (by us). Half the house was a shell, the other half was filled with all our stuff. It’s where we would live and work throughout the renovation for the next 18 months or so as the house went from tragic to disaster area to what have I done to hmmm ok maybe we’re getting somewhere.

And now, today, a mere three and a half years since purchasing it, the house is peaking. My daughter is visiting with four friends and the house and garden are really showing off. Five gorgeous twenty-somethings are having breakfast in the garden, giggling, teasing, relaxing in the sun away from their busy London lives.

You might think that my recent decision to put the house on the market would lace all this sweetness with a sour note, but in fact the opposite is true. The overriding feeling I have today is “Look what I created! Look what I can do again, but even better next time!”

Long time readers will know that my goal last year was to hold onto the house after my break-up and some work changes made life challenging, financially speaking. And I have held onto it. In that time I’ve made even more improvements, I’ve had fantastic features written about the house, with more yet to be published, I’ve had shoots in it, and I’ve designed and launched a wallpaper collection in it. I’ve made it through to another summer, this time finally getting to enjoy the house in its prime with nary a builder in sight (he’ll back soon to do some long overdue pre-sale snagging).

But a comment from my younger and much wiser sister two weeks ago made me realise that perhaps I don’t have to hold on to it anymore. “I’d rather be mortgage free even if it meant living in a one bedroom flat”, she said matter of factly, but with kindness. In the past I’d resisted this idea, but suddenly I knew she was right. It was ok to let it go. And fortunately I won’t have to buy a one bedroom flat.

I moved out of London for financial freedom, planning on buying a place on my own since my kids were almost out of the house. When my (now-ex) boyfriend decided he wanted to get involved, having never had the desire or money to get on the property ladder before, we bought a house for more than I’d originally intended, but it worked because it was split both ways. It was bought with my money, but his contribution to the renovations and monthly payments made it work.

Now I have a fabulous house, but - on my own - I once again feel trapped in the same way I did in London. When most of one’s income goes towards the upkeep of a home, suddenly it’s not quite as fun. I’m very lucky that I had children young, so now - not yet 50 - I have total freedom. I could go anywhere, travel anywhere, live anywhere (except for that damn cat I guess!), throw myself into new business ideas completely, with no guilt or distraction.

But the house has become a very beautiful noose around my neck.

One of the estate agents who’s visited in recent weeks to appraise the house said something that made me aware of how others might see my decision. “Let’s try to find you another house you love so that selling this one doesn’t feel like a failure”. I wasn’t hurt or offended in the least, her intentions were good. She knew how much work I’d put into it and she knew a little about my recent history and clearly felt saddened that I ‘had to’ sell.

Where I stood and dreamed up a reading mezzanine, back in 2022

View from my mezzanine, finally made manifest, 2025

But it couldn’t be farther from the truth. What it actually feels like is I’m making a smart business move and a life decision that will benefit me hugely in the future. Once I fully accept an idea, I am very good at moving on full steam ahead. I was sad for about 24 hours after making the decision, but now I can’t wait to find the next project.

When you’ve been through relationships that you thought would be forever, with ‘the one’ who turns out not to be the forever one, it changes your view on other things in life, including your career, friends, and of course homes (although if there is anything in my life that is likely to be forever, it is my friends. I love them so much, old and new). You probably know how I feel about the forever home. If not, then read this piece I wrote almost exactly two years ago. Hint: not a fan.

My cousin reminded me last week that making a profit on property (that you’ve lived in) is one of the smartest ways to earn tax-free income. Not that this was ever my plan, but now it seems like a no-brainer.

If I could hang on to the house for a few more years, I’d make a lot more profit. Whoever buys my house will do very well off of my renovation in the coming years, as Margate becomes more and more popular. The same thing happened with my bungalow in LA. I had to sell when I got divorced and even though a little profit was made because of my thrifty DIY renovation, it went on to almost DOUBLE in value over the next five years after I’d sold, something I struggled to accept for a long time.

A blurry picture of my first bungalow in LA when we bought it

Another blurry picture of my LA bungalow after I’d had it for a few years

The common denominator with both of these properties is that I bought with a partner even though it was my deposit money. Never say never, but…never will I do that again. Relying on someone else to make your finances work is a vulnerable position for a woman to be in and I don’t ever want to be there again.

When I told one of my older brothers that I was going to sell, he was extremely supportive, knowing how challenging things have been lately in my industry. He reminded me that I have a nose for property, much like our maternal Grandfather who was self-made and at one time owned 15+ properties in London. Our mum and her siblings moved house constantly as he bought and sold. All I needed to do, my brother said, was find the next good area to buy in.

My brother lives in LA in the same area where I bought my first bungalow in 2005. I remember very clearly him visiting us from the East Coast where he was living, and questioning my decision to buy in such a rough area. He’s now lived there for almost 20 years, this part of LA that the New York Times later proclaimed as the hottest place to buy property in the US. And this place was at the end of my road - as yet undeveloped - an incredible property that a very clever man turned into an incredible business.

My next house may not be great (or maybe it will!) It will likely be smaller and not on such a good street and plot (or maybe it won’t!) But I’m now thinking of the long game, being strategic in my next house purchase in a way I wasn’t with this one. Finding ugly bungalows and making them pretty seems to be my thing. I’m good at it and as long as I can make myself forget the hardship of a lived-in renovation, I also love it.

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My Margate bungalow as seen on the estate agent’s flyer in late 2021

And this morning :)