A Helping Hand
It was already a four-bedroom house when I went in, and he’d done a bit of a Bob the Builder
renovation. I had to redo some of the things, but I wasn’t really bothered because I’d got it
£10,000 cheaper than I was originally happy with, and it was now in a better condition.
By this point, I was thinking, “Bloody hell, I’m now earning way more than my salary.” I’d
managed to give myself over 150% pay raise. Once the renovations were done, and the tenants
were in, it was case of just dealing with issues as and when they came. Having four properties in
very close vicinity to each other, consumed about 40 to 60 hours a week, every single week, just
like a job does. It was bringing in more money than I was earning from my full-time job.
Nonetheless, it was handy being full-time employed when it came to mortgage applications.
Around the same time as I bought this house, one of my really good friends said, “My friend
Rachael’s got a problem. She’s living with her ex-partner, needs to move out, and wants some
property advice. Can you have a chat with her, to see what her options are? You seem to know a
lot about property.” I wouldn’t have called myself an expert at that point, but I thought if I could
impart some knowledge, that would be better than nothing. As it turned out, our meeting ended
up being our first date, and ever since then, seven years ago, we’ve been inseparable.
My life completely changed at that moment. I had been doing 100 odd hours a week, trying to be
a Jack of all trades and I just didn’t have any time. When I met Rachael, I fell head over heels in
love. When we first started going out, I never let on to her how busy I was. I was just acting like
everything was nice and easy going, and I could take everything in my stride, but beneath the
surface, I was working at warp-speed to try and make sure that everything was done. I was
working really late into the night at full speed, with multiple computers going at the same time
doing different things. Just literally, any minute of time that I could claw back, I had to. At the
time, Rachael was still living with her ex-partner, so we were both very keen to get her out of
that situation. So I helped her get a property,
Rachael moved into a property, everything was happy days – and then I got a phone call from
my dad. He said, “I’m back in England, can you come tomorrow morning and have a chat?” My
dad’s normally quite a chipper, upbeat kind of guy, but he sounded a bit scared or nervous. I
couldn’t quite work it out.
The next day, was a really cold April morning, and as I walked down the stairs to their front
door, this really weird shiver came over me. After an hour or so of beating around the bush, my
dad said to me, “I’ve just received my annuity statement from my pension company and it’s
pretty grim reading. I’ve been paying in for years and years and years, and I’m only six years
away from retiring. I’m looking at this, and there’s absolutely no way I can afford to live on the
annuity. I can’t even afford to pay for our food and all the basic house bills, let alone a mortgage,
running cars, having any holidays, nothing. I’m really scared.” It was hideous. My dad has
always been my hero. He’d worked so hard all his life and made sure that if I ever needed
anything he’d always pay for it. I was concerned about getting into a load of debt to go to
university, but he was really keen for me to go so he kindly paid. All the time I was at university,
that was all money that was coming out what he’d saved up. I felt really bad because my dad was
working a lot of hours and doing a shit-load of travelling, and at the end of the month, he had
more out-goings than he had incomings. Now, my dad was in such a sticky financial position that
my parents were thinking about selling the house and reconsidering what they would do with
their life. That really upset me.
My dad said, “I’ve seen what you’re doing with houses, I was wondering if there’s any way we
could work together?” I thought, “Wow, I’m really flattered, but my God, what a scary
responsibility. I need to sort it out because otherwise they going to have a really bad quality of
life.” I just felt really bad.
I had been bleeding my money dry every single time I’d been buying my houses, borrowing the
money from here and then saving up a bit and then putting it with some other borrowed money. I
was wondering how on earth we would do this.
We worked out a plan and bought a house together, then converted it into an HMO. I thought,
“Hang on, I’m going to have to share this money with my parents because we’ve agreed a 50/50
split. I don’t want to do all of this work to only get £100 a month each. So let’s put in some more
people.” By the end of it, we had a six-bedroom house.
renovation. I had to redo some of the things, but I wasn’t really bothered because I’d got it
£10,000 cheaper than I was originally happy with, and it was now in a better condition.
By this point, I was thinking, “Bloody hell, I’m now earning way more than my salary.” I’d
managed to give myself over 150% pay raise. Once the renovations were done, and the tenants
were in, it was case of just dealing with issues as and when they came. Having four properties in
very close vicinity to each other, consumed about 40 to 60 hours a week, every single week, just
like a job does. It was bringing in more money than I was earning from my full-time job.
Nonetheless, it was handy being full-time employed when it came to mortgage applications.
Around the same time as I bought this house, one of my really good friends said, “My friend
Rachael’s got a problem. She’s living with her ex-partner, needs to move out, and wants some
property advice. Can you have a chat with her, to see what her options are? You seem to know a
lot about property.” I wouldn’t have called myself an expert at that point, but I thought if I could
impart some knowledge, that would be better than nothing. As it turned out, our meeting ended
up being our first date, and ever since then, seven years ago, we’ve been inseparable.
My life completely changed at that moment. I had been doing 100 odd hours a week, trying to be
a Jack of all trades and I just didn’t have any time. When I met Rachael, I fell head over heels in
love. When we first started going out, I never let on to her how busy I was. I was just acting like
everything was nice and easy going, and I could take everything in my stride, but beneath the
surface, I was working at warp-speed to try and make sure that everything was done. I was
working really late into the night at full speed, with multiple computers going at the same time
doing different things. Just literally, any minute of time that I could claw back, I had to. At the
time, Rachael was still living with her ex-partner, so we were both very keen to get her out of
that situation. So I helped her get a property,
Rachael moved into a property, everything was happy days – and then I got a phone call from
my dad. He said, “I’m back in England, can you come tomorrow morning and have a chat?” My
dad’s normally quite a chipper, upbeat kind of guy, but he sounded a bit scared or nervous. I
couldn’t quite work it out.
The next day, was a really cold April morning, and as I walked down the stairs to their front
door, this really weird shiver came over me. After an hour or so of beating around the bush, my
dad said to me, “I’ve just received my annuity statement from my pension company and it’s
pretty grim reading. I’ve been paying in for years and years and years, and I’m only six years
away from retiring. I’m looking at this, and there’s absolutely no way I can afford to live on the
annuity. I can’t even afford to pay for our food and all the basic house bills, let alone a mortgage,
running cars, having any holidays, nothing. I’m really scared.” It was hideous. My dad has
always been my hero. He’d worked so hard all his life and made sure that if I ever needed
anything he’d always pay for it. I was concerned about getting into a load of debt to go to
university, but he was really keen for me to go so he kindly paid. All the time I was at university,
that was all money that was coming out what he’d saved up. I felt really bad because my dad was
working a lot of hours and doing a shit-load of travelling, and at the end of the month, he had
more out-goings than he had incomings. Now, my dad was in such a sticky financial position that
my parents were thinking about selling the house and reconsidering what they would do with
their life. That really upset me.
My dad said, “I’ve seen what you’re doing with houses, I was wondering if there’s any way we
could work together?” I thought, “Wow, I’m really flattered, but my God, what a scary
responsibility. I need to sort it out because otherwise they going to have a really bad quality of
life.” I just felt really bad.
I had been bleeding my money dry every single time I’d been buying my houses, borrowing the
money from here and then saving up a bit and then putting it with some other borrowed money. I
was wondering how on earth we would do this.
We worked out a plan and bought a house together, then converted it into an HMO. I thought,
“Hang on, I’m going to have to share this money with my parents because we’ve agreed a 50/50
split. I don’t want to do all of this work to only get £100 a month each. So let’s put in some more
people.” By the end of it, we had a six-bedroom house.