OPINION: 'Seven months after we bought our house, we're building a new one'

As is often the case with irrational love, my fiancé and I fell for the property that became our home almost instantly. 

After house hunting for over a year, we heard about a 200 year old former post office through word of mouth, and as two other properties we'd bid on had recently slipped through our fingers, we were willing to give anything a shot. 

Despite being located bang in the middle of a village main street, you'd be forgiven for walking right past it without noticing what it used to be. When we first viewed it, sporadic streaks of peeling green paint and a rotting pilaster were all that remained of its exterior, but inside was a different story. 

It was much like what you'd expect; a modge podge of furnishings and window displays, an ancient card display, yellow MDF panels on the walls, and a giant glass desk taking up a quarter of the space. Walls from the original house had been removed to transform the downstairs into one big room large enough for customers, but beams overhead marked where they should have been. 

Our first thought was that it was too small. 

But once we opened the back door, we realised the property extended back much further than either one of us could have imagined. It was like a labyrinth, and far too much space for just two people, but as we planned to grow our family in the coming years it made sense to have too much rather than too little. 

Once we got to the garden, which was long and narrow and lined with mature shrubs and trees, we had made up our minds; it was the place for us. 

We hired someone to conduct a survey and, after no major red flags were raised, we felt confident going ahead with the sale.

I can't describe how happy we were to get keys in May after a year of waiting, yards of red tape, and more waiting. It felt like closure and a grand beginning all at the same time. 

We were eager to begin work straight away, and we were certain we could do it for a bargain price with the help of the Vacant Property Refurbishment Grant. 

After all, the survey hadn't flagged any structural issues, and we thought a full re-wire and re-plumb and some general updating was the most we'd have to do for now. 

Or so we thought. 

Looking back, our naiveté is astounding. 

Our plans for the post office - which were lovingly designed with the help of an architect - had to be changed at the last minute due to an unfortunate obstacle (or, to be honest, several obstacles) discovered after clearing out the area. 

We learned the property had been built on solid earth with no foundation to speak of, and the walls themselves - made up of stones placed neatly on top of the other - were still standing with little more than thoughts and prayers. 

We were told they were "at risk of crumbling". 

Top tip: When a builder uses that word to describe your walls, it isn't a good sign. 

Nor is being told the floorboards on the first floor are all riddled with woodworm and actually dipping in the middle due to a lack of support below. 

Our plan to cover the walls in lime render was scrapped and the builder gave us the bad news; we had to build a new house within the old one. 

It took a few days for the reality to sink in, but when it did I couldn't quite believe it: Seven months after we bought our house, we're building a new one. 

As someone with absolutely no desire to build, this wasn't ideal. 

In fact, it was the very opposite of ideal as it meant we had to find a very large sum of money to do what - according to the builder - absolutely had to be done. 

And what had to be done was the construction of a two-storey timber framed home slightly smaller than the original. 

New within the old. 

Buying a second hand property comes with a certain amount of risk, no matter how many surveys you have done or how many experts tell you everything seems fine. Until panels and paper are removed from walls and the carpets and vinyl and floorboards are lifted, you can't get a true picture of what you're dealing with. 

Unfortunately, you can't start hacking into someone's house while you're in the process of buying it, so you take a leap of faith and hope it pays off. 

But it doesn't have to be this way. 

In Scotland, most home buyers are required to conduct a survey of their property before it's sold to anyone, so that potential buyers can purchase the home armed with information. 

But even this doesn't go far enough, as the valuation - like in Ireland - is just surface level. The actual fabric of the building can't be modified during the inspection as it's strictly based on what is visible or accessible. 

This should change. 

An in-depth inspection which explores aspects of the property which aren't immediately visible just makes sense. A seller can arrange it and, as the owners of the property, there would be no issues with surveyors being thorough. 

I can see why a seller may not want to do this, as it could reveal problems with the property they'd rather keep hidden until long after the checque clears. But, in my view, they also benefit, because surely someone who is selling their home is also a buyer, unless they're building a home from scratch. 

Don't they, too, want to know exactly what they're buying? 

To be clear, I don't blame sellers for not arranging rigorous surveys ahead of time. They're not legally required to, so why would they? It might not even occur to them because it's not the way things are done in this country. 

But I would like to see that change. 

Our home - which we've affectionately called 'The Lemon' - is almost finished. Our builders created a new foundation and facade for the property, and constructed a new frame for the house inside the old one. It's now completely unrecognisable both inside and out, and although we still have a while to go before we set hard hats down for good, we hope to be living in it shortly. 

Although we don't regret buying the property, I think our love for it has helped see us through. Some days that love does a lot of heavy lifting. 

But the Lemon has a lot going for it. 

It's quirky and full of character and history, it's close enough to family to pop around for Sunday takeaways, it has more space than we could ever know what to do with, and it has a beautiful garden, which, after spending the majority of the pandemic in a tiny Dublin flat with no outside space to speak of, was priority number one while house hunting. 

Imperfect as it is, we're not far off lemonade.