bought a home & our generation is screwed

i’m lucky and grateful for my unique set of circumstances – most others categorically don’t have, or just don’t fancy.

I’m currently in the process of moving into my first flat in the UK, I’m rapidly approaching 30 and have a daughter to keep clean, dry, and fed.

Ruby is the best thing that’s ever happened to me – marginally ahead of Manchester United’s 1999 treble – but I’m not going to pretend 2023 was bookmarked for fatherhood. It wasn’t.

The whole thing was sprung on her mother and I in a single moment within my parents’ bog. I entered needing to brush my teeth and spray a splash of Sauvage one morning and was intercepted by my girlfriend holding a digital stick that smiled at us jeeringly.

We both went to work, and from the day life has been on fast forward.

The name of the game immediately pivoted to: ‘Right, we need a place before she’s running around.’

Now, sat writing this as my mum continually chases Ruby to the stairs and back of her own home, I’m pleased to say, though we’re running a little behind on that schedule, we have been accepted on a place and are targeting a completion date before Christmas – solicitors willing… God, I hate myself.

While wanting to update friends on the situation, I can’t help but acknowledge the massive elephant always in the room. I’m only in this situation because of a very favourable set of circumstances that other folk won’t be afforded – and I feel bad about that.

I’m not a silver spoon baby by any means. My dad’s a builder and mum’s a community nurse. I’m moreso referring to the fact that I’ve been allowed to nest at my family home for nigh-on 30 years, raiding the fridge, hogging the biggest bedroom, and bathing as frequently as an otter – all entirely rent free and without a hint of friction.

Any attempt (and there’s been many) I’ve made over the years to try and pay my way has been shut down bordering on aggressively, and the dynamic is as breezy and enjoyable as ever. The situation for my girlfriend is similar, too, and we spend a lot of time at her family home.

Children are expensive, granted, but our parents have allowed us both to put aside a larger percentage of savings each month than most of those who pay rent and bills, especially those renting in and around London.

In terms of childcare – something that costs many parents an arm and a leg – it just so happens that both nans’ weekly schedules align perfectly to babysit when we’re both working, and they cherish every minute of it. Again, we’re extremely grateful for this.

If we didn’t get on so well with our own families or ‘in-laws’ and had to rent and pay for a childminder, I dread to think where we’d be. With the rank cocktail of inflation, growing taxes, and the housing crisis we certainly wouldn’t have the so-called property ladder as a feasible objective in our minds.

Even with our head start and hefty deposit – saved strictly over 7 plus years – financially it’s still going to be tight each month. The disparity between the average salary and housing prices in the UK is as wide as it’s been since the 1800s.

Thankfully, we’re operating on a help-to-buy scheme that brings mortgage interest down to 4.55% instead of going rate for the first five years. Beyond that, f*ck knows where this economic bouncy castle will leave us.

Nonetheless, it’s taken me to arrive on the cusp of the big age of 30 to even consider entering the shitshow that is the housing market – and that’s largely because Ruby needs a home and her own room.

It’s honestly no wonder around half of British Gen Zers worry that they’ll never own a home. Anecdotally speaking, most of my friends and colleagues have fallen into apathy about the situation in their mid-to-late twenties. We’re being hamstrung left, right, and centre to the extent that it feels like some form of sick social experiment.

Here’s to hoping that Labour can deliver on its pledge to make London living more palatable for the renters who can’t, or just don’t in any way want to, live with their parents as a whole arse adult. I’m not holding my breath, though.

So… yeh, the takeaway here is that while I’m excited about getting my own place, the process has only served as another reminder of how ridiculous and oppressive this country is.

Thanks for listening to another ramble.