Neither me nor Mr HB have ever liked new houses.
Me and Mr HB have just moved into a new build.
We looked at loads of houses – anyone who’s ever moved knows the drill – driving around your chosen area looking for For Sale signs, etc, etc. There was always something not *quite* right. Like, it had the right number of bedrooms but only one bathroom. We’re just about to have teenagers! Or it was perfect but had a galley kitchen. Anyone who has ever been to my house knows I spend most of every day in the kitchen!
What we realised, eventually, is that ‘modern houses are designed for modern living.’ Yeah, the new house doesn’t have character. But it has everything we need, multiple bathrooms, vast kitchen-diner. And there are quite enough characters inside its four walls…
The date sits at the end of a finite line
visible now, one turn of the calendar,
three more changes of plan, at least,
eight thousand emails between
me and a solicitor who works from home.
I get a new jar of Marmite
huge, the usual one but ballooned.
And I think ‘I’ll still have this when we move,
I’ll be eating this Marmite at this table
in our new kitchen,’
with the trees outside
and the rotavated soil of the garden ploughed up like
a life packed into boxes
a glut of lists.
I don’t know how many more
Fuel is adrenaline sourced:
instead of sleep, I spread out maps
containing our new house
on the table at 3am,
tracing burns and reservoirs,
and dead ends.
tinylife will be back in September.
Yet again I have confirmed my status as a bit of an oddball.
This time it’s the over our house, which you will know is currently on the market unless you have been hiding under a rock or muted me online until today.
We’re supposed to hate house viewings, right? All that tidying so that complete strangers can come and examine our property and ask awkward questions about the neighbours.
Well, I love them. The house has never looked so good. We have a total system (and a list, of course!) for the tidying. And I adore taking folk over the house – I’d forgotten I can be charming, or at least friendly – showing them all the great things we put into it to make it home.
It feels like saying, over and over, ‘this is our house. Isn’t it lovely?’