Thank all the gods I don’t ! Stringer and I only ever had two: the first was the house he built for us from the ground up to the roof of the second storey on Dangar Island in the mighty Hawkesbury River, on the northernmost fringe of the Sydney suburban area. The second was the semi-detached we bought in Sydney’s Inner West, a suburb called Annandale, after we sold the Island house. He made astonishingly wonderful changes to that one, putting in a cellar office underneath and a stairway up to the loungeroom, as well as building a new bathroom and loo, that enabled us to sell it when the bottom fell out of the corporate video market.
My favourite blogger and her husband are in the throes of selling theirs so as to move to the kind of area they now seek; and all the usual crap is coming down about their ears. This includes real estate agents telling them what their house “has to” look like – pulling out the lovely poppies that grow along its little frontage, e.g., and adding pretend things to the interior for photographic porpoises.
They are now contemplating parting from large amounts of moolah in order to make their house match what the RE agents reckon it should look like. Personally, I believe RE agents and those companies that titivate one’s house for selling are closely linked – possibly even related !
Writing about all this brought back very strongly to mind that super little house that Stringer built; and I am unable to prevent myself from inserting some photos (taken by moi and therefore mostly ghastly):
It was a wonderful time, back in the late ’70s and early ’80s, when I was working at TCN9 and Chic was building our new house … On my days off I used to sit in an old director’s chair where he was working and sleep amidst the cacophony of his power tools.
I’ve been really lucky in my life.