A Wet Tuesday Tells the Truth: The Second Viewing We Insist On

There is a particular kind of weather that does more for a house purchase than any amount of freshly baked bread or strategically placed lamps. It is not the golden evening light that estate agents pray for. It is rain — steady, unglamorous, honest rain — and at Brookshaws & Sons we have been arranging viewings in it since before the motor car reached our high street.

The custom is simple enough. When a buyer gets serious — when the second appointment is booked and the solicitor's name has been mentioned — we suggest coming back on a working day, ideally when the sky has turned the colour of wet slate. Some think it is perversity on our part. It is, in fact, the oldest piece of advice this firm hands down, older than the telephone number on our letterhead.

What Sunshine Hides

A house on a bank holiday Monday is an actress. The light pours through the south-facing windows, the garden looks like something from a seed catalogue, and even the road outside seems to have dressed itself for the occasion. Nobody can be blamed for falling for it. We have seen hard-headed buyers — surveyors, no less — go soft in the June sun.

But sunshine conceals precisely the things that matter most. The gutter that overflows is dry. The patch of standing water at the bottom of the drive has evaporated. The damp course doing its job badly is invisible on a warm afternoon. Return on a wet Tuesday in November and the house will tell you everything the brochure left out.

Old Mr Brookshaw the third had a phrase for it: the house can't act in the rain. He was right. Water finds the weak point in any building, and it does so without regard for whether a viewer is standing there with a notebook.

The Street Is Part of the Purchase

The second visit is not only about the building. A street at half past four on a wet weekday tells you a great deal that a weekend stroll never will.

Where do the school-run cars end up? Is the road nose-to-tail by three o'clock, or pleasantly quiet? Does the neighbour's van block the pavement every evening? These are not trivial matters. You are not merely buying four bedrooms and a bay window; you are buying the sounds, the traffic and the comings and goings that surround them.

We have had buyers withdraw, gratefully, after a wet-afternoon visit revealed that the tranquil lane they saw on a Sunday was, on a weekday, a rat run for the bypass. Better to learn that before exchange than after. A disappointed buyer in week two is an inconvenience; a regretful homeowner in year two is a failure on our part.

The Sounds You Cannot Photograph

Rain has a way of exposing a house's voice. The porch that creaks in wet weather is telling you about a joint that has been working loose for a decade. The downpipe that gurgles rather than drips may be carrying more than it should. A window that whistles on a blustery day is quietly quoting you a figure for new seals.

None of these things should necessarily stop a purchase. Old houses creak; that is what old houses do, and anyone who has lived in a Victorian terrace knows that character and imperfection are close relations. But you should know about them before you buy, not discover them in your first February as the new owner, torch in hand, wondering whom to ring.

That, in the end, is what the second viewing is for. It is not a trick and it is not a delay tactic. It is the difference between a buyer who knows what they are purchasing and one who is hoping for the best.

How We Arrange It

If you are a buyer approaching the offer stage, expect us to raise it. We will suggest a weekday, ideally mid-afternoon, and we make no apology for hoping the forecast is grim. Bring your usual scepticism and a coat. Walk the boundary. Stand at the end of the drive and watch the road for ten minutes. Look up at the gutters, not just ahead at the door.

And if you are a seller, do not fear this habit — embrace it. A house that stands up to a wet Tuesday is a house worth boasting about, and our best-prepared vendors know it. Clear the gullies, mend the dripping tap on the outside wall, and let the weather do the selling for you.

Ninety-odd years of doing this has taught us one thing above all: the sun closes a sale, but the rain keeps it closed. We would rather lose a week to the weather than gain a completion we cannot stand behind.