Pretty much set to go, we let rip with the adverts and inclusion in  the ESPC. Viewings on Sundays 2-4 was the norm. Some people chose alsonto have viewings on a Thurdsday evening, but we had decided it would be easier if we just did the Sundays.
We had bought a couple of things for the 'crisp' look to the place - white towels etc, and managd to disguise the broken bed (long story, but not what you're thinking) and we had decided that we would go with the fresh coffee approach rather than the scented candles.
As it turned out, the lady was away in the US on the first day we hit the ESPC. A Thursday. It was lucky I was ready 'just in case' as we had a couple show up ho have a nosey around. Nice enough people, seemed to like the place too, and bought all my semi-rehearsed speech as I showed them round. On the first Sunday with the lady still away, a friend came round to help in case there was a rush. She brought pie, so we let it simmer at a low ebb on the cooker and fore-went the coffee. Again, one couple only, and that seemed to be the pattern for a while. We changed the schedule to include Thursdays in the hope of drawing some more attention, but nothing seemed to get much further than 'we really like the place'. Even when it was the same friend that took the helm while we were in London for a weekend it was the same story.
We learned quite a lot in the process of what to do and what to say, but it seemed to just boil down to the right person coming along with the right finance. Even if they were a bit cheekyat the time. Unfortunately, the time was around 6 months later.
Never mind though, they came along, gave us the positive noises, and I think it was the Tuesday we got the phone call to tell us they had made an offer.
We negotiated up a little and then we made appointments to see three places for real. 2 in Kirkcaldy that were 3 bedroom places, and the one we wanted.

Next up - Part 5: What not to do to sell your house (or: Not so much Tutunkamun as toot and go out again)

And so, armed with the 3 schedules (to read on the train so as to not appear conspicuous on the streets) we alighted at Burntisland, minding the gap.
We thought we should tackle the furthest away one first, as it was higher up the hill than the others, and as the other two were closer together, to us it made sense. So following our plan we strolled down the high street and turned to face the hill...although when I say 'the' hill, I of course mean 'the first of 5'...anyway, it was a nice day and we took our time, smiling at folks who smiled back and trying to spot warious bits of wildlife on the way. Eventually we made it as high as we were going to go and casually strolled past the first house, trying to look without being obvious that we were spying on a potential new life. After we passed one way, we casually crossed the road to scope the place from the other direction and to see if we could get a further nosey into the garden. We thought it looked just about spot on really, but due to the way the house was placed, we still hadn't really got a clue about the garden. Not to worry though. The area seemed quiet, there was no litter on the ground, no sign of any vandalism and the important thing was that there was a post-box not too far away. There was also a convenient bus stop close by, but the road was narrow, so we figured that it would just be a wee local bus that would risk the narrow lane.
Off to numbers 2 and 3.
Number 2 was pretty much ruled out straight away as it seemed very compact and extremely close to, well, everything really. It was on a seemingly busy road (or at least busier than the previous one) and just didn't look the part. We didn't bother with a second look. Number 3 had potential, although the garden looked exposed, and smaller than number one. It was a 'maybe' though. Then, as we were walking away talking about what we had just seen, the lady stepped in something unseen. Under a pile of leaves on the pavement was something that a disgusting dog owner had left behind. Not a good end to the property scoping and not a good sign for that particular street.
After taking the rest of the day to look around the rest of the town, checking out the beach and a cafe, we hopped back on a train to the city and chatted most of the way. Most of the chat about property number one. It was 'the' one. We could only hope that by the time we had sold, it would be still on the market. It 'had' to be. We both loved it, and the area. First things first though, we had to get people through our door, and interested.

Next up, Part 4 - Viewings, let downs and freshly brewed coffee...

As breaks in the preparation allowed, we were almost constantly searching the web and the ESPC for somewhere to move to. We had some simple criteria

• My current employment meant that we would have to be within about an hour's travelling
• We wanted a semi-detached, detached or end-terrace (a flat would be considered, but only if it was top floor and spectacular)
• We would like 3 bedrooms (one to sleep in, one as an office and one for all our art/photography stuff)

• We wanted a garden.

Armed with that (not much to look for) we set about searching.
We knew North Berwick quite well, and thought about there for a while. But the high desirabillity of the place and the compromise in size we would have had to have made kind of ruled it out from the start.
I had previously spent some of my working carreer in one of the cities of Fife, so my view/opinion of the area was based on my time there and this made me not too keen on Fife at all. However one day that opinion changed dramatically.
In a break from the routine we decided, off the cuff, to catch a train somewhere - 'anywhere' and spend a day somewhere we hadn't been before. A teeny bit of research threw up the Fife Costal Path and the train stops along the route. So it was then we decided to hop on to Aberdour, walk along the coastal path till we were knackered and catch a train home. So we did.
Aberdour was lovely, the beach was clean and the rocks good for climbing over. The Coastal Path itself was a wonderful mix of sea, trees, railway bridges and the odd fairy well. And by the time we had meandered for a few miles (*note that when we go for a walk, it usually means cameras, photo stops and stopping, so a short walk can take a long time) we ambled into Burntisland. The town looked lovely, clean, tidy and people on the street smiled at you! How cool. Even the train station was lovingly kept. We liked this place. A lot.
Initial searches though, had ruled out both Aberdour and Burntisland because of the price for 3 bedrooms. After having seen the towns though, discussion meant we would see what 2 bedrooms and our budget would bring us.
One such property was the result of a search by me. It ticked boxes and looked like a little bit of a fixer, but liveable in to begin with for sure. So I bookmarked it and went to the 'office' room of the flat to tell The Lady of my find. Before I got to the door, a call of 'I think I've found one' ang out and I went to see what other property she had found. It was the same one. We discussed how it looked etc and what we could do with it and so on. So coincidence/fate/taste had all conspired to present us with the same property. But deep down we knew it was possibly a long wait before we sold, and the chances of it still being there were slim. So we kept on searching and found another couple in the town that looked 'ok'. Not ideal, but with potential.
By this point we were on the market and even had people come round 'very interested'. But whether or not it was banks not giving mortgages, or people over-enthusing we'll never know for sure, but time moved slowly onwards and seemingly moving us further from our dream. We kept on checking in though and the house was still on the market. Surely it can't be that bad?
We decided that one day we would take a trip round Burntisland to take a 'walk-by' of the 3 properties we knew were still up for sale.

Next up - Part 3 Scoping the joint...

Well, we are here now and so I thought I would blog here about the process of moving, selling and generally everything connected with shifting your life from one part of the country to another.
It all started way back when we decided that a) we wanted a bigger place, most probably a house rather than a flat and b) somewhere not in the middle of a big city, fraught with pollution, tramworks and an inept council.
I approached a 'free, no obligation' person to ask advice on what to do next (having never sold property before) and before we could think, an estate agent came round to visit to offer advice and submit a quote.
He told us things we already knew - 'de-clutter', 're-decorate' etc and reckoned in about a month or so we would be ready.
De-cluttering was the first stage, and one of the hardest! How to decide which 'stuff' was of no use to us and what couldn't we bear to be parted from. 'Stuff' is a word I will use a lot in this tale by the way, it covers most of my posessions....Anyway, we had set out boxes for 'keeping', 'storage', 'freecycle', 'charity' and 're-cycle'. At least a full car-load went to be re-cycled, 8 bags of stuff to charity and verious bits free-cycled later and we still seemed to have way too much 'stuff'. Flexi-store is an excellent idea for people like us who don't have a car, van or articulated lorry. We phone up, they drop a horse-box sized crate at the door, we fill it, they pick it up and store it and then repeat the process in reverse for wherever we land.
The lady discovered a packing box provider who had the fantastic fore-sight to make all its boxes have the same 'foot-print', just be of differing heights to make the stacking easier, so we ordered a pack and started to fill them. I was working the usual round of crazy shifts, so it was the lady that did most of the packing. After we felt we had enough to fill a crate, Mr Flexi was phoned and a trailer was delivered. It only took about an hour or so to fill the trailer...really 'fill the trailer' that is. No space at all for anything else. But only about half an hour to work out that we needed another crate. We already had ordered more boxes and pretty much filled the bedroom with stacks of neatly piled 'stuff'. Mr Flexi duly delivered another life-holder and the job was done - with some help from mum-in-law who had been roped in came down to assist in the chaos.
Boxes all away, and it was decoration time! We had been putting off decorating after having having had the whole roof/boiler/kitchen scenario happen, but with less obstacles in the way the job seemed a lot less overwhelming.
The lady split her time between working from home (as she does) and decorating. I helped where I could, but mostly just got in the way, so stuck to things like making a skirting board and accidentally melting plastic on the kitchen lights etc. Three weeks after the estate agent had visited, we were de-cluttered and decorated. Pretty much ready to go.
Minimalistic living wasn't going to be easy for us (loads of books had been packed, and only a few pieces of music remained) but it wasn't going to be long. It was August, and house prices were relatively stable.
Well, they were. We went on the market and then everything crashed......

Next up - Part 2, Finding where you want to live, almost by accident.

Now it seems certain that we are leaving the city, I thought I would reflect on my 18 or so years (off and on) of living in the capital, with thoughts on the good stuff and the bad of my time spent here.

The Good:
Edinburgh Playhouse, 'back in the day' when, as a student, managed to practically live in the place or huddled around the stage door.
Rose Street, where many of the 'Virgin' pubs were (on a rotating basis)
Virgin itself, where many great friendships were formed
Arthur's Seat, and walking up and around it (not enough times)
The loch nearby, where herons, swans and an occasional cormorant can be found.
It used to have a great live music scene
Architecture (except of course the Parliament building)

The Bad:
Snobby people
Dog-poop everywhere as the council are too short-sighted to supply poo-bins.
Drivers
Extortionate taxis
Parliament (the great white elephant)
The dying live music scene
The council fleecing the tax-payer for all it can get (see also Parliament and Trams)
The tramworks killing businesses and causing chaos