As a reward for being good, I give my son a green chip. Each chip is worth £1. He is saving up for Gunkster, a Hot Wheels monster truck that costs £65. It’s been about a month, and he has saved exactly £17.56. Every now and then he brings out his makeshift piggy bank, an old glass sauce jar, examines each chip and each coin counting slowly, carefully. He declares how much he has now to an uninterested crowd in me and his brother and demands to how long until he reaches his target.  “that’s a long time” inevitably follows the answer. He sighs, shakes his head, tucks his money away and goes about his day.

For a five-year-old, a £65 target must feel impossibly far away. For an adult the goal of home ownership feels just as elusive.  Every now and then, I also look into my bank account, count my money, quick mental arithmetic confirms I’m nowhere close. I cry into my avocado toast and matcha tea.

Saving for a house feels more elusive than ever, even if you scrape together a deposit, there is the sting of stamp duty, conveyancing, surveys, moving fees, etc. all while house prices continue to climb. And just when you think the dream is within your grasp something shifts and interest rates go up pushing affordability further out of reach.

You stick with a job you hate, cut back on everything that makes life enjoyable and eventually you get there, you can now afford a house. But not the house you imagined or the area you wanted. However, this realisation comes slowly and painfully, through property listings, and multiple viewings and that quiet irrational hope that maybe, just maybe, someone will accept an offer well below asking price. They don’t. So you compromise, you expand your search area, lower your expectations and convince yourself that a daily 30-minute walk to the station is good for the old step count.

You find a house and make an offer. Then a strange feeling hits you, part of you hopes your offer is rejected as you realise you are about to spend a lot of money on something you have settled for.

Eventually my son will reach his goal and get his toy; my house deposit £65 lighter. He will be happy, his patience will have paid off, he will have exactly what he wanted. I, on the other hand, would have persevered… for a compromise.

This is Part 1 of an ongoing series at Bits & Blabs documenting the highs, lows, and lateral moves of my journey toward homeownership. From the first “green chip” to the final set of keys (hopefully), I’ll be sharing the unvarnished reality of the UK property market. Stay tuned