I bought at the top of the market - and I don't regret it

Last year I walked the property market plank with my eyes wide open. I knew a crash was probable, imminent even, having spent three years scrabbling to buy as prices sky-rocketed. But after losing out on so many places I was determined to nail my three-bed terraced house in Archway, even though it meant paying half a million pounds - way over my initial budget - plus a chunky backhander to the owner, just to guarantee I'd see the keys.

Nine months on, the indications are bad. Prices across the country are on the slide. Mortgage deals are vanishing faster than Sunday's snow. And interest-rate cuts have done nothing to ease the crisis because brass-necked banks have pocketed the difference and charged customers more just because they can.

On top of all that, my neighbour's house, on the market now for six months, has failed to shift. Apart from a small tree sprouting from its roof, the house is identical to mine (which took two hours to sell) and I keep a close eye on it as a barometer of my own fortunes. So it's worrying that they're on their third estate agent and buyers don't seem to be breaking down the door.

There's one big difference between our houses. The asking price is £100,000 more than mine went on the market for. It's gradually crept down since the early, optimistic figure put on it by Foxton's, but it's not unreasonable. I've checked every similar property in a two-mile radius. All priced the same.

There is a grain of reassurance in this. The market might have slowed but I realise that I couldn't afford my own house now - prices are cooling but they're still higher than when we bought.

The problem is not that my home's no longer minting money. It's that I'm saddled with a disproportionately large debt for three more decades - and in 30 years I don't want to have to find my current salary every month just to keep a modest roof over my head. I want to be sunbathing in a foreign country,

my slaving years well behind me.

So was I mad to buy when prices looked set to tumble? There are times when I lie awake in bed listening to the neighbourhood crackheads baying like animals and I think I've lost my marbles. That's when I resent the £2,500 a month I have to fork out to live across the street from them.

But there was one good reason to buy into a housing market at boiling point - to stop renting and start

looking out for my own future instead of paying into someone else's pension fund.

I've just read a survey that says in my lifetime we've become twice as rich but happiness levels remain the same. Buying a house when I did might not make me wealthy, but I'm happier with my lot - because a home is much more than an investment. At least that's what I tell myself as the red lines plummet ever down.