I've been house hunting in Edinburgh for over two years and the search is coming to an end

After over two years of house-hunting in Edinburgh, with a bit of vague dabbling in North Berwick and Glasgow, our latest offer had been accepted.

I put the estate agent’s voice message on speaker phone.

Strangely, my first reaction was horror.

I shouldn’t be too surprised. After all, there has been an occasional element of self sabotage on the property search front. Of course, you really want to get somewhere eventually, and we’re exhausted by the constant hype that’s been punctuated by disappointment.

However, you also know that a heck of a lot of unsettling graft will ensue. So, you put in a slightly lower offer and take your chances.

After all, failure means you can keep doing the fun property search bit, with all its promise and possibilities.

Once that is over, you will immediately have to pull on your big girl/boy pants, tighten your purse-strings, cancel all forthcoming mini breaks, and set to work.

Every time we’ve had a no in the past, I’ve secretly thought, ‘phew’.

After all, we’re in a chain, as we still have a flat to sell, and our magic money tree has developed Dutch elm disease.

To get this new place, we had to dig deeper than we ever imagined we could. The Edinburgh market is always hot. There is no choice but to be mortgaged to the hilt.

But, despite our anxiety, it’s a yes, and we have put our parachutes on.

I have stopped being so negative. After we got the phone call, I kept ominously saying ‘well, the die is cast’, until my husband had to tell me to please stop.

There is trepidation, yes, but plenty of excitement, especially when people say ‘congratulations’ and you realise that this is an excellent thing.

We celebrated with fish and chips, and discussed how, this far into the hunt, our friends and family had stopped believing we were ever going to move.

They’d obviously forgotten that it took us three years to find our last flat.

This occasion is a rare thrill as, in mid-life, there aren’t many opportunities for big life changes. In our house, there ain’t going to be babies, marriages or promotions, unless The Scotsman has a special surprise for me. If so, the answer is, yes, ‘I do’.

We keep getting the zoomies, because we are so ready for something different.

After all, we’ve been in the same neighbourhood for two decades. As beautiful as it is, give me change, so that I feel alive again.

I think it surely must be good for your brain, to develop a new set of routines and not be feeling Groundhog Day-ish, as you wear a groove into the same routes that take you to the shops, local cafe and gym every day.

Since we got the news, there has been a rollercoaster of feels. It’s strange how so many emotions are tied to home.

Along with the joy, we both feel sad and strangely guilty about leaving a place that our late parents visited.

My dad, his mum. I can still remember dad, in my living room, heaving himself off the - too low - sofa whenever he visited in his last decade, and my mother-in-law, standing in the hall, beaming and clapping, while we cut our wedding cake. They’ll never get to give our new house the thumbs up.

We also spent so much magical time here with the nieces and nephew, when they were tiny buttons. There are so many toys stuffed in cupboards, from the baby years, and shoogly felt tip pen drawings from the toddler ones.

There have been Easter egg hunts, barbecues and birthdays. Hard and horrible times, too. Grief. Lockdown.

All this must pass, though. Moving house doesn’t change that. You can’t fly under time’s radar by staying still.

Then there is the buyer’s remorse stage.

Was our new home really that nice or have we made a terrible mistake? Did we only get it because nobody else wanted it?

You only view a property about twice - well, we did - before making the huge caveat emptor laden commitment, and it’s hard to remember the minutiae.

As soon as I leave a place, it starts shrinking and getting darker, in my anxious mind’s eye.

My main positive memory of the new place has nothing to do with the layout, but is that they had a lovely golden retriever, who provided all the happy vibes. I think he must’ve put in a good woof for us. Sadly, I don’t think he’s included.

As the property is still online, except now with an ‘under offer’ banner - we did that! - I keep going back to the pictures, to reassure myself that, yes, we love it.

It’s gorgeous and grown-up. I will no longer be working in the living room. The kitchen has space for a proper table.

I’ve replayed the online video tour more times than I ever viewed Dirty Dancing as a 13-year-old.

I’ve looked at the location on Google Maps, and Google Earth. I walked down the street one night, quite late, ‘just to see’. I thought how embarrassing it would be, if I bumped into the sellers, walking their dog. He’d recognise me, even if they didn’t.

My only hope is that we get moved in before the end of the summer, so we can enjoy it in its glory months.

For now, it’s all hands on deck, as we clean and tidy for viewers. Apparently, many chains fall through, so we have to sell, sell, sell.

The die has been cast.

Read more: “I’ve been house hunting in Edinburgh for a year now and I’m ready to give up”.