We want to move house, to somewhere with a garden, and a little bit more of a family feel. I love our flat, but it has no outside space, no parking and is on a main road next to a nightclub. Toddler friendly it is not! Of course when we moved in here, very young children were not part of the plan, but plans change and now we need a new home to reflect that.
I only started looking properly this week and already I am feeling stressed. I veer between excitement and panic. Excitement at a fresh start in a new home, a chance to declutter and lay down some new ground rules and all that stuff. And panic at the idea of moving all our many belongings, making big decisions and even finding somewhere we like.
My dream home would be detached, old-fashioned and rambling. Subtle faded colours, punctuated by our own more vibrant art. It would have a cellar – for raucousness, a huge kitchen, with room for a distressed wooden table and chairs. A nook with an open fire guarded by high-backed wing armchairs and bookended by ceiling height shelves, packed with novels and biographies. A family room of squishy sofa-ed cosiness and primary coloured fun. An adult lounge for writing, music and box set watching without the threat of lego infiltration. A bedroom for each of us and a spare for visitors. A roll top bath, a rainforest shower. A grand staircase for fake movie star entrances. A garden with the smell of honeysuckle and a plethora of wooden hideaways for all age groups – preferably one high in an old and charming tree that may bear fruit in late summer. Borders where petunias battle with gaudy plastic flamingos for attention.
What I will settle for is somewhere with room enough. Room enough for five people to dwell without sitting on each others laps. Three bedrooms will suffice, we can share with the youngest a while longer yet, and the eldest is set to fly to the hallowed halls of residence within a couple of years. A kitchen that functions. Heating that works. Magnolia walls peeking out between our treasures. Even a small courtyard outside would provide a space for messy fun.
Dreams aside, I am not that fussy, my purse doesn’t allow for pernickitiness. I have only been to look at one house and I loved it. But that is fraught with it’s own stresses, it is not up to us whether we can have it. They let everyone interested view, and then pass the details of the people who want it onto the landlord to choose from.
I am now trying to put it out of my mind until we get news, but am actually browsing furniture shops and mentally planning where I would put things. The former is by far the better approach as the latter is just going to make it even more depressing when we get the inevitable phone call saying it has gone to someone with a higher income. I want to send the landlord a missive with pictures of my smiling children and a promise to fill her house with love instead of just personality-free figures on a sheet of A4.
So you will have to excuse me if my blogging is a little erratic over the next few weeks while we find ourselves a new roof, expect tantrums when I don’t get what I want and an uncharacteristic series of interior (un-)design posts when we do finally find somewhere, for now – it’s back to loitering on the Rightmove website in case anything new pops up!
Wish me luck,
Love Miss Cisco XXX