By Brendan Leahy, Naked Real Estate 

I have sat in a lot of kitchens over more than two decades in these hills, having the same conversation. It usually starts with someone quietly saying, “the place is getting a bit much.” And it usually ends with them deciding to think about it for another year. 

I understand why. But if there is one thing I could tell every hills family, it is this: the hardest part of downsizing is not the move. It is the timing. 

You are not selling a house 

Let’s be honest about what is really going on, because the practical stuff is not what stops people. 

You look out at the backyard and you see the spot where your son came off the swing and split his knee open. You see where the dog used to tear around. You see the 21st, the wedding, the Christmases where the whole family somehow fitted around one table. That is not a floor plan. That is your life. 

Nobody sells that easily. Anyone who tells you it is just a house has not been doing this long enough. 

Why the hills make this harder than most places 

This is not a general downsizing article, because our situation here is genuinely different. 

Our blocks are big. Half an acre in Mount Nasura or Mount Richon, a bigger original block up in the Kelmscott hills, acreage in Bedfordale or Roleystone with a paddock and a shed. That is exactly why you moved here, and it is exactly what becomes unmanageable first. A courtyard on a cottage block does not do this to you. Half an acre on a slope does. 

And the public transport is what it is. It exists, but it was never built for someone who cannot drive. So if a licence goes, or driving gets hard, the shops and the doctor and the family suddenly depend on cabs, an Uber, or someone else’s schedule. In a lot of Perth you can age in place. Out here it is a harder proposition, and it is worth being honest with yourself about that while you still have every option open. 

The honest case for staying 

I am not going to pretend this only runs one way, because it does not. 

If you are well, if the place is still manageable with a bit of help, and if living here is the thing that gets you out of bed, then staying is a perfectly good decision. Moving costs money. It costs energy. It costs the thing you cannot price, which is thirty years of knowing exactly where everything is and who everyone is. Plenty of people have looked at all of it and decided the trade is not worth it, and they were right for them. 

So the question is not whether staying is valid. It is whether you are choosing it, or drifting into it. Those feel identical from the inside and they end up in very different places. 

What the waiting actually costs 

There comes a point where a property gets away from you. It is never one big moment. It is gradual. 

The gutters do not get done. Then the roof gets a couple of leaks that do not get fixed straight away. The paint goes. The garden gets ahead of you, and then the cuttings pile up out the back because there is no easy way to shift them. 

And the house fills up. This is the one nobody thinks about. Every year seems to add another cupboard, another box in the roof space, another corner of the shed. Sorting through forty years of it is hard enough. Sorting through forty-five is harder again, and you will have less energy for it then than you have today. 

Meanwhile the home is quietly losing ground against every other property on the market. Not because the market moved. Because it stopped being maintained, and buyers price that in fast. I have walked into homes that were immaculate five years ago and are now worth a lot less than they should be,

for no other reason than time and tiredness. 

And at the other end, the place you would be moving into, the lower-maintenance home, the unit, the villa, is not waiting for you. In my experience those homes have not got any easier to buy. 

So the gap can widen from both ends. That is the part that sneaks up on people. 

“The kids will help” 

I hear this a lot, and it is almost always said with complete sincerity by everyone involved. 

The kids genuinely mean it. But they have jobs, and their own kids, and some of them are fly in fly out, and some of them live an hour away. So the help that was going to be every weekend becomes once a month, and once a month does not maintain a half-acre block in the hills. That is not a criticism of anyone. It is just what life does. 

I have also had children tell their parents not to sell, because it is still their family home too. That comes from a good place. But wanting the house to stay in the family is not the same as being able to look after it, and mum and dad are the ones living with the difference. 

Bring your family into it. Please. 

This is something I say to everyone, so I will say it here too, and I mean it as an open invitation. 

If your children, your family or your friends want to be part of this conversation, bring them. If they want to sit down and go through it all together, or ring me themselves and ask me anything at all, I have no problem with that at any time. Just let me know. 

This is not a decision anyone should be making alone in a kitchen with an agent they have just met. The more people who love you that are in the room, the better the decision usually is. I have never once minded being asked hard questions by someone’s daughter. 

The people who love you, and love your house 

Here is one almost nobody talks about, and I want to be careful how I say it. 

You have wonderful friends who come up for morning tea. They sit on the verandah, they look out at the trees and the view, and they say, “oh, don’t sell this, it’s beautiful. Why would you ever leave?” 

They mean every word, and they are not wrong. They can see something real. This place is beautiful, and they know you, and their view belongs in the room. 

Just be clear about what they are weighing. They get the cuppa, the birds, the view on a perfect morning. They are not there for the gutters, the roof, the ride-on that will not start, or the days when the place quietly asks more of you than you have got. They see the best of it. You live all of it. 

So take their love for what it is, which is real, and listen to them properly. Just make sure the person carrying the work gets a say too, and that person is you. 

The part people do not say out loud 

There is a fear underneath all of this that has nothing to do with money. 

If I move, I have to make new friends. At my age. Will they like me? Will I like them? Do I even want to start again? You have known your neighbours for thirty years. You know which checkout person asks after your grandkids. 

That is real, and it deserves to be taken seriously rather than brushed aside. But it is also worth asking honestly whether it is easier to build that new life at seventy or at eighty-five. From what I have seen, the difficulty of change does not stay flat. 

And when one partner passes and the other is left in a house they built a life in together, everything gets harder again. There is guilt in leaving. There is guilt in staying. There is nothing simple about it, and there is no version of this where a stranger should be pushing you. 

So what do I actually reckon? 

Not advice. Just the pattern I have watched for more than two decades. 

The people who do this well tend to move six or twelve months before they had to. While they are well. While they can still drive. While they can still walk the block and make the decisions themselves and enjoy the place they move to. They sold a home in good condition, they had choices, and they had a bit of fun with the next chapter. 

The people who struggle are the ones who waited for a reason to move. Because by the time the reason arrives, it is often a health event, and now you are making a very big decision in the worst possible circumstances, with a house that needs work and no time to do it. 

A change of mind is fine, by the way. I have had people go back and forth for months, and that is completely normal. This is not a transaction, it is an upheaval. Anyone who rushes you through it should not be in your kitchen.

Where to start: a checklist for the kitchen table 

You do not have to decide anything today. But these are the questions worth sitting down with, together, before the years decide for you. Do we actually know what this place is worth today, or are we guessing? 

• Have we been honest about what the block needs each month, and who is really doing it? 
• If we stay, what has to change to make staying work, and who is doing that? 
• If we move, what does the next chapter actually look like? Not the address. The days. 
• What would the next place realistically cost, and what would be left over? 
• Have we spoken to a financial adviser about how a move affects our position? 
• Have we had one conversation with the family all together, rather than five different phone calls? 
• Are we choosing to stay, or just putting it off again? 

This is a starting point for conversations with your family and your financial adviser. It is not a substitute for their advice. 

Where I fit in 

I am not going to tell you to sell. I have talked people out of it more than once, because it was not the right time for them. That is not a line. It is the job. 

What I will do is give you a straight answer about what it is worth today, what it would take to present it properly, and what the realistic options look like, so you can make the decision with real information instead of guesswork. Then you take that to your family, your accountant and your financial adviser, who are the right people for the money and the aged-care side of it. 

No pressure, no obligation, and no timeline from me. If the answer is “not yet”, that is a perfectly good answer. At least it is a decision you made, rather than one the years made for you. 

If you are in the hills and you have started wondering about it, even quietly, that is usually the sign it is worth a conversation. Book a free, no-obligation appraisal or just give me a call for a chat. 

Truth. Strategy. Sold. 

Send this to someone who needs it 

If this sounds like someone in your family, send it to them. Sometimes the hardest conversation is not about selling. It is about knowing when to start talking. 

Frequently asked questions 

When is the right time to downsize? 

There is no single right age. From what I have seen in the hills, the people who do it well tend to move while they are still well and still driving, six or twelve months before they had to, rather than waiting for a reason. The people who struggle are usually the ones who waited, because the reason that finally arrives is often a health event, and that is the worst possible time to be making a big decision. 

Is it better to downsize early or wait? 

Waiting is a perfectly valid choice if you are well, the place is manageable and living there is what you want. The risk is not waiting itself, it is drifting rather than choosing. A home that stops being maintained loses ground against the market quickly, and the lower-maintenance homes people move into have not got any easier to buy. 

What happens to a big hills block when it stops being maintained? 

It is gradual and it is expensive. Gutters, roof, paint and garden all slip, and buyers price that in fast. I have walked into homes that were immaculate five years earlier and were worth a lot less than they should have been, for no reason other than time and tiredness. 

Should my family be involved in the conversation? 

Yes, and I actively encourage it. Bring your children, your family or your friends, or have them ring me directly and ask me anything. Nobody should be making this decision alone in a kitchen with an agent they have just met. 

About the author: Brendan Leahy has been selling homes across the Perth Hills and Foothills since 2002, with more than 1,500 personal sales. [Link to author page.]

This article is general information based on my experience as a local agent. It is not financial, legal or aged-care advice, and it does not take your circumstances into account. Decisions about downsizing, retirement living, pensions and aged care should be made with a qualified financial adviser and, where relevant, a lawyer.