Proper Property

The property market.
Sounds very twee doesn't it?
It gives the illusion of a local, weekly produce-fair, filled with aging, humble farmers trying to tempt you with their fresh, home-grown vegetables for a lovely winter's stew.
Ahhhh bliss.
If only this were the case. 
The reality is a hubbub of split-level, self-contained, first floor, penthouse, communal garden, modern, rustic, all bills included (except electricity, water, council tax and gas) properties, filled with smarmy, over-perfumed liars who are trying to con you with their cramped, over-priced lettings for an unhappy home life.
No no no. I'm not bitter. Not in the slightest.
So, here's the deal. The boy and I are quite homesick.
Our home? We're sick of it.
Therefore we are on the hunt (yes hunt) for a new property/home.
We're renting (of course) and we are both 'young professionals' (as the estate agent kindly termed us).
I know this sounds like some kind of personal ad, but after yesterday's debacle, I'm not ruling anything out.
For starters, estate agents have this annoying habit of posting the most beautiful, within-budget rentals on their websites that when you ring have, sadly, "Just been let". Isn't that just the luck?
It's only by the 7th attempt, that you realize - this is codswallop! 
Anyway. The boy and I went on a viewing yesterday.
The first viewing that either of us have ever done. We both felt a bit awkward.
I observed that I felt like my mom should be there.
I'm the youngest in my family. He's the eldest. Ergo, he can take the lead. Again this is nothing to do with gender stereotypes - just mere family dynamics.
So we tottered off to the estate agents to meet, let's call him, 'Suave Marv'.
Suave Marv was, alike to his name, incredibly suave. Although his trousers were just that little bit too snug. It was hard to concentrate on much else.
The first flat the he showed us was 'split level'. 
Personally, I'd define it as 'splitting' an already tiny space onto two 'levels'. Also, the ceilings were on a huge slant, so the 6ft 2ins boy, had to walk around like a half-decapitated zombie. No offense darling!
How could this flat be put on sale to reside 2 people?! I'd have to practically sit on the boy whenever we were both in residence. Which I'm sure he wouldn't mind. But he's not got great circulation.
Good old Suave Marv did his best to sell it to us but it really felt like he was flogging us a dead horse. 
At least we could eat a dead horse.
The second flat.
Well. We walked a mile to see it. And then we couldn't get in it.
Suave Marv didn't have the key to the front door. And the tenants weren't in.
Marvellous. What a fruitful trip.
Suave Marv tottered off with his blackberry in-toe while the boy and I went to get an ice-cream to drown our sorrows in lactose.
"It's the first viewing" I said to the, slightly miffed and impatient, boyfriend.
It was the first viewing. And the second. Well... we viewed the outside of it with great success.
Today I've given it some real welly and telephoned pretty much every estate agent within the area and am awaiting their call-back. 
I hope they don't all call at once.
Property. It's proper irritating.
Watch this space...