My lovely house (with apologies to Father Ted): Frustration and Flu

Part nine and seven eighths.

I seem to have the flu, or something else unpleasant (a virus I guess). I can’t turn my head because my neck hurts too much. This is a bit of a disadvantage when driving, doubly so in the Landrover as I can’t see much anyway. I also seemed to have picked up a couple of days work. The net result is frustration. I wanted to be on my way back to Ireland, but instead I’m stuck in bed in Suffolk (I have nothing else to sit on anyway) with the dog and a bottle of beer for company.

Meet the dog

Her name is Buffy

She's permanently confused

she has very short legs (but she tries hard)

Of course I have been trawling the property sites, it seems to have become a deep seated obsession. My excuse now is that I’m looking for decorating ideas (yeah right…).One thing which I still can't understand is the colossal variation in the quality and quantity of the pictures the agents put online. Some houses get the five star treatment, over twenty pictures (although in some cases many are duplicates....) but at least you get to see inside. Other houses seem to have a desultory picture taken on a mobile by the agent, who obviously didn't bother to get out of the car and nothing else. Ok, I can understand this if the house is a ruin and going inside would be to risk life and limb, although for the fees they charge one would at least expect them to get out of the car. But some houses look quite nice, however the only pictures are of a frontage through a bramble bush and a slightly waterlogged field (tagged as 'The View'). One or two agencies seem to have a scatalogical bent, as they publish pictures, not just of the bathroom, but specifically of the toilet...down the pan

(are they trying to tell us something?). Why? There seems to be a magnificently whimsical approach taken by some photographers. Take for example, a (possibly) rather nice farmhouse on ten acres (including an orchard), three bedrooms and a guest cottage. There is a picture of a conservatory, half a kitchen with a bit of dining room in the background, a stone gateway in the garden, a couple of the eponymous 'view' and one of the house itself, half hidden by a hedge. Where are the bedrooms? What's wrong with them that they don't merit a picture? At least the toilet bowl is notable by it's absence, but so is the guest cottage. What's so awful about it? Is it a rodent ridden feed store? Or maybe it's a bondage dungeon cunningly disguised with floral curtains? We shall never know, which might explain why it's been on the market for the best part of two years.

To be honest, although there seem to be some rather nice places that I would have got wildly overexcited about last year, I’m perfectly content with what I’ve got. My yearning for the cosy little cottage dissipated as I discovered that cosy is frequently estate agent speak for dark and poky. I heard an article on the radio recently, it seems that ‘spring fever’ is linked to an increase in light levels that comes with the lengthening of the days, in short, we get, ummm… frisky. Conversely, if we sit in the dark and don’t get out our pineal gland persists in producing melatonin, which puts us in hibernate mode. Therefore, my lighter, brighter house is good for me (and could possibly enhance my sex life!)… I hope Himself takes note (although I doubt he ever reads this) as he lives the life of a vampiric troglodyte.

Don’t get me started on his house…. The Addams Family mansion in the hands of a compulsive hoarder! I’m not allowed to moan about it (why does anyone need that many magazines? Is it a sign of a disturbed mind that NONE of them are pornographic, but many feature engines?). I can’t complain that the unhappy combination of fiercely patterned (and coloured) carpet and wallpaper in combination with an outstanding collection of ornate mouldings and ceiling roses (all original) gives me a headache. It upsets him when I declare that the damp and consequent fungal spores have made me sneeze non stop for a week and I’m now going to sedate myself with antihistamines until it’s time to go home.

I’m all in favour of free furniture, and most of his was (mainly as a result of death), but the result looks like an auction warehouse after the looters have left. We both know that there may be treasures under the myriad piles, although we disagree upon the nature of treasure. Something electronic which no longer works but ‘may come in’ (sometime before it belongs in a museum) doesn’t count! He counters that my house (in England) is a tip, which it is , but that is because it is undergoing renovations. Items of furniture are: 1 double mattress, 1 two seater sofa, half an IKEA storage unit (being saved for Himself) four dining chairs, one wooden chair, one wooden stool, one single iron frame bed with mattress, one wire storage rack, one small filing cabinet, one cheval mirror and one wardrobe (empty) and quite a few boxes of god knows what. I really don’t understand why the house seems to be full of crap despite this.

My daughter has recently availed herself of the services of a 'de-clutterer', who apparently appears regularly on daytime television (I wouldn't know, I don't own a telly). Clearing stuff out endows my daughter with a sense of sublime happiness. I wish I could communicate this euphoria to Himself (without the use of Class A substances). I did suggest that she mentioned Himself's abode in the hope that the decluttering lady might view it as an exciting televisual opportunity (a 'great one' of course...) and descend upon the unsung successor to the late Mr Trebus, brandishing her Marigolds and a determined expression. Of course her resolve might falter once she got through the door and over the hurdles of stuff, so we'd have to bolt the door pretty swiftly.

I have scored one victory on the domestic front. The dreaded 'hammock with an ecosystem' (Himself's antiquated sleeping arrangement) is to be replaced. The only difficulty is where to store old Faithful. My suggestion of a bonfire as it was too old to contain any synthetic materials (they hadn't invented them yet) was met with stony silence. I sincerely hope he doesn't intend to press it into service as a guest bed, guests are scarce enough as it is. Transmitting some as yet unknown virus to them as they sleep and simultaneously inflicting chronic backpain seems a bit extreme and unlikely to encourage repeat visits.

As a displacement activity for actually being in Ireland I have been hunting for quirky stuff for it. I’m still looking for the perfect wall hanging for the ‘Moroccan’ bedroom

This is where I want to put a hanging

I think the wall looks a bit bare

and I’d love a sea chest and a hammock seat for the downstairs bedroom.

I think a hammock seat would be fun here

You could hang it from the beams

I have failed to achieve any of these mainly due to being as tight as a duck’s arse. I do have a problem with the shelves in the bright bedroom, they make it look untidy when you put stuff on them.

Messy shelves

I have hunted both online and in real life for some storage boxes to put on them. What I found was either overpriced (£30? Really???) or came in silly sets of three, where the smaller two were too small to be any bloody use. Two pairs of knickers and they are full! (no, I don’t wear granny knickers, even if I am a granny!!!). What I have found, although I don’t know if they will fit yet, is half a dozen chitting trays (see earlier post for explanation of ‘chitting).

chitting trays

They will need a good scrub with sugar soap and I plan to make canvas liners for them (if canvas is too expensive I have some old curtains that will do). I found some old whisky crates in Himself’s garage, and they scrubbed up ok….