How family homes turn into war zones when divorce forces a sale

He is rightly pleased with himself over this one, dear boy, because this is the paragon of properties. There is, at any time, a shortage of listed Georgian houses on the market and the real

clincher is the garden, an Arcadian grove no doubt of peach trees and trailing roses but also a form of fortification. Walled gardens are very big these days. So all in all, this is great

news because it has frankly been an appalling week. No I lie. It has been an appalling five years in our world. Then the boss drops a bombshell: “It’s a divorce.” Fantastic. So now I will be

showing my clients around a beautiful family home that has been turned into a war zone. It is almost always the same story. The Wife will be living there after hubby, in throes of a midlife

crisis, has hopped off with a twentysomething popsie. Now The Wife is digging in her sensible heels and learning the art of housekeeping. That is, keeping the house. So this means that

anyone showing clients around will be followed closely by The Wife, kindly pointing out the damp patches and mentioning the little problem of subsidence and other horrors, such as the huge

expense of keeping up a listed property. “Cold, isn’t it?” she will say, faking a shiver, “but you cannot do a thing about the draughts because of English Heritage. I know someone who was

fined £100,000 for replacing her windows!” And so on ad nauseam. I had one deal go down the pan after the buyers pulled out at the last minute. I called to ask why. “Mrs Jeffries has

mentioned the problem with snakes in the garden,” they told me. My friend Nikita Patel has that problem. We were discussing it just the other day. Nikita lives in Pune, India, and what with

all the construction going on there, the rat snakes and cobras are turning up in gardens. Mrs Jeffries, on the other hand, lives in Kent. I once arrived at an absolutely peachy Edwardian

terraced house only to have the front door flung open by a jilted wife who screeched: “Living room left, kitchen back, beds upstairs,” before going off to smoke cigarettes in the bushes. My

client sized up the situation immediately and after the shortest possible inspection left. She said that she could not possibly buy the place after that reception. I am also very wary of

taking on large houses that have been divided into flats by a desperate husband whose spouse has proved so difficult to get rid of that he has converted. The Wife will have bagged the most

expensive and spacious flat and now goes about acting as if she still owns the whole place, monstering the new owners about noise, parking and dogs, while excluding her own incontinent

puppy, Puddles, from all reproach. Enter all war zones at your peril.