Househunting....I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

After the elation of securing our permanent residency visas comes the depression of househunting. I can't understand why anyone would ever do this for fun. Still less amusing is having to do it in a climate where prices are spiralling in some kind of stupid East Coast catch-up. Oh, and having to do it with a teething toddler in tow is an added delight. The supply is abysmal, there is really almost nothing on the market, and of course as a result people feel free to ask ludicrous prices for miserable little hovels. Prices here seem to have leapt about 25% in the last few months alone. It's frustrating to spend one's whole weekend trailing around what turn out to be smelly, grotty places with huge price tags while the agent smugly witters on about the number of phone calls he took this morning for the home-open booking. It has always been D's and my luck to be selling in a flat market and buying in a buoyant one, and here we go again. Anyone who is wondering when the Perth property boom will end, wonder no more. I can confidently predict that this will occur within weeks of D and me saddling ourselves with the Mortgage From Hell.

I am having to get back into the habit of translating that most optimistic of languages, Agentese.

"Luxury bathroom" = "The suite is a cracked atrocity from 1978, the grouting is black and the toilet is suitable only for a gnome with an advanced diploma in yoga"

"Very stylish decor" = "Some misguided idiot thinks that putting diagonal stripes of yellow tiles on every second wall is the last word in interior chic"

"Nothing to spend on this one" = "...except for the Guide Dog's kennel"

"Your very own slice of heritage" = "Your very own slice of termite-infested polystyrene-ceilinged slum".

Etc, etc. At least in Glasgow the schedules actually include a layout and room dimensions, so that you can rule out things which are glorified dolls' houses in advance. Here, the real estate agents don't bother, and why should they, when there is a queue of desperate punters clawing at the gate anyway.

Sigh, sigh. More, undoubtedly, very soon.