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land and life
Apr. 14th, 2009 11:02 pmAs many know, I like to look at real estate for fun. I was looking at properties in the UK out of curiosity to see what is out and about these days. Now I have been in a number of homes in the UK -some of people related to me by marriage and others just lovely people I happen to know and they all seem to have reasonably attractive sofas. Yet in most pictures that show the living rooms for listed properties; the sofas are so unbelievably ugly. They all seem to be oversized and about 20 years out of style. It strikes me as odd. As this is a land where homes are smaller than say in America, I would think that you would try and emphasize or give the allusion of space. (after all it is at a premium on that tiny island) Maybe the standards are different in England. Maybe the attitude toward staging is, "Look at the big sofa you can get into this room. Look at it. It may be ugly and puffy in a bad way, but we can get it through the door." It reassures those with the oversized sofa bought on a whim, that they won't have to buy any new furniture for their grade II listed cottage with the low beams that someone is going to smack their head into after too many gins.
I sometimes have to set aside my own cultural experience when looking at a house. "Why isn't there more open design here? The flow is lousy. It makes everything cramped." I have to remind myself that central heating isn't thrown around the way it is here. And that the closed off rooms are probably there to help retain some heat. I can see why barn conversions are so appealing -you can make things less maze-like and more, "look at us, we can pretend we live in a villa and drink our south american wines and nibble artisan cheeses." At least that is what I would do. I don't deny it. (though I don't think I would be all about the south american wines. Big whoop Chile.) Though I suppose one would still have to wear a heavy sweater, use a hot water bottle and tell oneself it builds character.
The real problem is that I am spoiled by my in-laws place. It is enormous, has enough room to hold an army and it is so damn bucolic that it makes grown people ill with delight. I may not plot my in-laws untimely death but I do think long and hard about how I need to win the lottery or write some porny cook-book that even Nigella Lawson would be envious of. But damn the girl beat me in the tits department so I will have to get by on my so-called charm and the alleged rumor that something I did to someone once caused them to have to go to the doctor to make sure there wasn't permanent damage.
Reputation is everything isn't it?
Anyways, enough about that.
I realized today that I am pretty sure I am carrying Baby Biscuit low (which explains some of the pain. And the fear of sneezing.) And at the rate I am going, by the end of the pregnancy I am going to be carrying her around my knees like a pair of ineffectual pantyhose at the end of the day. A visual to amuse one and all.
I sometimes have to set aside my own cultural experience when looking at a house. "Why isn't there more open design here? The flow is lousy. It makes everything cramped." I have to remind myself that central heating isn't thrown around the way it is here. And that the closed off rooms are probably there to help retain some heat. I can see why barn conversions are so appealing -you can make things less maze-like and more, "look at us, we can pretend we live in a villa and drink our south american wines and nibble artisan cheeses." At least that is what I would do. I don't deny it. (though I don't think I would be all about the south american wines. Big whoop Chile.) Though I suppose one would still have to wear a heavy sweater, use a hot water bottle and tell oneself it builds character.
The real problem is that I am spoiled by my in-laws place. It is enormous, has enough room to hold an army and it is so damn bucolic that it makes grown people ill with delight. I may not plot my in-laws untimely death but I do think long and hard about how I need to win the lottery or write some porny cook-book that even Nigella Lawson would be envious of. But damn the girl beat me in the tits department so I will have to get by on my so-called charm and the alleged rumor that something I did to someone once caused them to have to go to the doctor to make sure there wasn't permanent damage.
Reputation is everything isn't it?
Anyways, enough about that.
I realized today that I am pretty sure I am carrying Baby Biscuit low (which explains some of the pain. And the fear of sneezing.) And at the rate I am going, by the end of the pregnancy I am going to be carrying her around my knees like a pair of ineffectual pantyhose at the end of the day. A visual to amuse one and all.
