The Ugliest House on the Street

This was the ugliest house on the street.

At least, that's what 22-year-old me thought.

It was in Birkdale on Brisbane's Redlands Coast, about 150 metres from the tip. Three bedrooms, one bathroom, tired from top to bottom, and sitting on what looked like the least desirable block in the neighbourhood.

It was also the first home I'd ever bought.

I was earning $27,000 a year working for an airline, and I bought it as a birthday present to myself.

Someone had told me I'd never manage to buy a house on my own. That it would take two incomes.

I've always had a stubborn streak, and that was exactly the wrong thing to say to me.

So I did it anyway.

Inside the home wasn't much better than outside.

The kitchen was fluorescent orange, straight out of the 1970s when the house had been built. The carpet had probably been there just as long and had developed a smell all of its own. The bathroom and laundry weren't winning any design awards either.

My sister moved in with her little girl, and between my sisters, Dad and me - while Mum kept us fed the whole way through - we ripped everything up before I could afford to replace it.

For a while we lived on bare concrete floors, saving every spare dollar until we could finally lay tiles and carpet.

We painted the whole house ourselves.

When the kitchen was replaced, we cooked every meal on a single electric frypan for weeks while we waited for the new one to be installed.

When the tilers arrived, we packed as much furniture as we could into the garage. The garage door had other ideas, so the rest ended up wherever we could fit it. We escaped to Mooloolaba for a few days to give the tradies room to work, then came home to what felt like a completely different house.

Looking back now, it's funny what time and a lot of sweat equity can do to your opinion of a "bad" buy.

That little house had a big block, solid bones and room to grow. I just couldn't see it at the time.

More importantly, it taught me something I'll never forget.

Your first home doesn't have to be your dream home.

It just has to be the one that gets you started.

Back in 2002, buying a home looked very different. There were no online listings to scroll through over breakfast. You found out what was for sale from a sheet of paper taped to a real estate agent's window or by flicking through the display folders on the counter. I spoke to a mobile lender instead of using an online borrowing calculator, and there are barely any renovation photos because you dropped your film off at the camera shop and hoped half of them turned out.

Today there are thousands of brokers, comparison sites and property apps competing for your attention.

Back then, you worked out what you could genuinely afford, rolled up your sleeves and got on with it.

Every birthday present since has had a lot to live up to.

This reflects my own experience and is general information only, not financial advice. Everyone's borrowing capacity and circumstances are different, so seek advice that's specific to your situation.