The Reluctant Landlord - part 3

Not all the sales I made in the subsequent years were disasters although those are the ones that stick in my mind most.

There was a nice semi-detached, 3 bedroom house that I sold early on. The tenant was an office employee of my father's who was allowed to stay there with her husband for many years after it was found that she was stealing from the business. She was fired from the job but British law being what it is, the tenant cannot be asked to leave as long as rent is paid and even if it is not. Her rent was substantially below the going rate and as I raised it gradually the tenant, now widowed, began looking for alternate housing. Now I could do a few repairs and sell it unencumbered. My luck held, a buyer was found and I came out well.

Similarly, a row house I owned became vacant. Workmen were hired to upgrade the kitchen and bathroom, repair some windows and a fresh coat of paint was applied throughout. This tiny house with just enough garden for a few potatoes and without a garage or even a driveway was a hot commodity. It sold within a week. Scored again!

Then there was The Birches. That was more than one disaster. First built in the 1800's, to what must have been a well to do family, the main house sat regally on a knoll overlooking a small park adjacent to my childhood home. Around 1920, the property became a private girls' school of about 60 students. It had a winding driveway, a grass tennis court and lawns large enough for field games. My sister and I attended from age 4 - 11 under the heavy hand of two spinster ladies. Yes, the ruler came out often and three order marks equalled detention which went on your permanent record.

I remember there being three classrooms and a music room plus the living quarters for the ladies. There was third elderly spinster, Miss Brinkworth who lived in what was once the gate keeper's cottage behind the school. She owned The Birches and taught private piano lessons, in her quarters, to some of the luckless students. Most often the metronome clicked back and forth while the teacher snoozed and the student banged unmusically at the keys. I lasted a couple of terms and remain tone deaf to this day.

Much later after Miss Brinkworth's time, the aging teachers could no longer continue, the school closed and the property went up for sale. My father swooped in and our old school was turned into flats. Houses were built in the gardens, cheek to jowl, and all but the gate keeper's cottage were quickly sold.

What was left to me was a two story cottage plus 2 flats created in the connecting section to the school. All quite tiny I understand, although I never saw more than the piano lesson room. Not prime property as you will hear in my next episode.

 

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The Reluctant Landlord - part 2

The shop that I now owned was in Nailsworth, a small market town a few miles from where I grew up. The streets were narrow and most of the houses were made of stone. This particular shop was part of a row of what was once terraced cottages in an alley only accessible on foot. The shop sold pet food, some gardening products and accessories and was about the size of a single garage.

Above it, although not directly above it but rather staggered half over the neighboring shop, was a vacant flat. I am still not used to the way the Brits sell off bits and pieces of property from the main leaving these odd shaped jigsaw puzzle parts.

I had been to this property with my father at least 15 years prior. I remembered climbing the narrow stairs to a dark and musty couple of rooms where a single man lived. I don't think there was indoor plumbing then and nothing had been done since, I was sure.

This was to be the first property to be sold. The pet food shop was not doing well and the rent was coming sporadically. The owners reluctantly decided to close up shop and at about the same time, I was approached by a woman wanting to open a flower shop and own the premises. Perfect, I thought!

My sister was helping me manage my properties at this time and in a better position to negotiate than I was. A deal was struck and I was delighted. This was going to be easy. Not so fast!

The flower lady was excited and planning her future when suddenly everything came to a grinding halt. I'm not sure who first pointed out that the buildings were definitely not plumb but in fact leaning dangerously but it was probably the local authorities. I was now visualizing the whole row of attached buildings tipping into the street with the first gust of wind.

It wasn't quite that bad but serious measures had to be taken immediately or the buildings would be condemned. This may have been the first time I heard this but as it turned out, it was not to be the last. My inheritance was shrinking fast and there was still that tax bill.

In the end, the flower lady had her shop, the buildings were stabilized and any proceeds I received were negligible. One down and 31 to go!

 

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The Reluctant Landlord - Part 1

My father, throughout his lifetime, accumulated an impressive portfolio of property including houses, flats, building lots, shops and his most favorite, garages (individual storage units just large enough for a mini). Some of these he inherited from his mother while others were just too good a deal to pass up. In due course, these properties were passed down to my sister and me and we became landlords, although in my case, a rather reluctant one.

Now you would expect most people would be grateful for such an inheritance. My sister, lived close by and was very familiar with the properties and their tenants but I was an ocean away. Born and raised in England but having left for the USA at 18, when I thought I just about knew it all, I had little knowledge of what had suddenly landed in my lap.

Dad had the foresight to create 2 separate property companies so when the time came, one would go to me and the other to my sister. It didn't work out quite as he had planned as a fair bit of muddling went on in the 7 years between my parents' deaths. Suffice it to say, that by the time it was all sorted, my share was somewhat diminished and I had a huge tax bill.

Slad Properties was now all mine - 4 houses, 5 flats, a pet shop, 22 garages, 32 tenants and a tax bill. In England you are taxed every time you turn around so my first thought was to sell everything as quickly as possible and get out! Now, more than 10 years later, I am still trying.

Already in the real estate business here in Vermont some of that knowledge would surely help, I thought. How wrong I was! There are almost no similarities in the way real estate transactions are handled. Agents in the UK bring the buyer and seller together and then hand off to the solicitors and their job is done.To be fair, their commission percentage is a fraction of what we can expect. Neither party signs any agreement until the day of completion and at any time along the way another buyer can gazump the first by raising the bid. With a lack of a signed agreement and no fixed dates, it seems that the solicitors can move at their own pace, which in my experience is not quick. To slow the process even further snail mail only will do for documents - no electronic signatures or scanned papers.

My holdings are now down to 2 flats and 6 garages and at this time I have an offer on the garages. There is a glimmer of a light at the end of the tunnel but I know better than to get my heart rate up just yet.

Each sale has been an adventure in itself. My next few blogs will take you down that path with me as I recall the events that now can make me laugh.

 

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