A comment from Grannymar yesterday on the post about the £2million pound garish theatre set of a house that I found (among many) on the Fine and Country web site, spoke of the concept of “house” and “home” and how those two words were often mutually exclusive.
I concur.
Back in ’97 all was well in the Jerrychicken household, the business was doing just swell, I owned all of it and I could pay myself what the hell I liked, bring home as much money as I could carry, paid a lot of money for a Volvo that devalued itself down to nothing within two weeks, but I didn’t care, it was just money and we had lots, even bought Suzanne a Tonka truck of a 4WD that she didn’t like, so I had it for myself – its true, you can only drive one car at a time.
So we decided to move house.
We had a nice house, a standard three bedroomed semi-detached with big bedrooms, we had great neighbours, an elderly couple that our two young daughters treated as grandparents as their real grandparents lived in Spain and Newcastle, the street was a cul-de-sac and was full of other children of their same age, they played out in the street every day, the mothers nattered in the street, it was a nice street, it was a nice house.
We decide to move house.
We decided to move house because we could, because the money was coming home in wheelbarrows, in retrospect it was a bad mistake.
The bank couldn’t do enough for us, they saw the profits that the company was making and they threw the mortgage rulebooks out of the window and told us we could help ourselves to the contents of the safe, so we bought a big house.
Its 12 years ago now and of course house prices have quadrupled since then but 12 years ago we went from a modest £30k mortgage to a £140k mortgage that bled £1000 a month out of our account.
And that was just the start.
The house was a moneypit. When we were given the tour by the previous owners we didn’t realise that they wouldn’t be leaving a kitchen, they didn’t , they took the kitchen with them and we had to buy a new one, but before that I had to go to Barbados on business (two days after moving in) leaving Suzanne in a house with two young kids with no kitchen and the realisation that the central heating didn’t work either, boy was I in trouble that week – full story here.
So we spent three to four grand on a new kitchen and stuff, and a lot of money for a heating engineer to fix the heating only to have to spend eight grand on a new system and boiler, and then the council tax bill came in at 50% higher than the previous house and the gas and electric bills were simply stunning in their audacity, £200 a month to heat and light the place.
We wanted to decorate but when your vista from the front living room to the conservatory stretches nearly sixty foot from front to back and the ceiling is twelve foot high then one pot of paint isn’t going to do it and the old men at B&Q get to know you by first name, and when christmas comes around your old decorations look puny so you end up buying three christmas trees and decorating them all then find that your next door neighbour is Chevy Chase in “National Lampoons Christmas Vacation” and so you have to compete or let the street down…
And on and on it went…
The oak paneled art deco entrance hall needed re-carpeting for another grand and then a new front door was required, it was non-standard of course so goodbye to another couple of grand, and on, and on…
The house soaked up every spare penny for four years and as a family we lived four separate lives, the kids would go straight to their ballroom-sized bedrooms from school and I’d go to my own little studio from work and Suzanne would sit downstairs and watch shite on TV and forget that she ever had a family, four years later and we realised the truth in what Grannymar stated yesterday – we had a house but we didn’t have a home.
We sold it, downsized, learned the lesson.
If I win the lottery tonight the very last thing that I would spend the money on would be a stately mansion, the very last place I’d go shopping would be “Fine and Country”.
[...] When a house is not a home ? Jerrychicken – The Diary By jerrychicken When we were given the tour by the previous owners we didn?t realise that they wouldn?t be leaving a kitchen, they didn?t , they took the kitchen with them and we had to buy a new one, but before that I had to go to Barbados on … and when christmas comes around your old decorations look puny so you end up buying three christmas trees and decorating them all then find that your next door neighbour is Chevy Chase in ?National Lampoons Christmas Vacation? and so you have … Jerrychicken – The Diary – http://jerrychicken.wordpress.com/ [...]
Gary, I am sorry that you learned this lesson the hard way. I know several people with similar stories, alas not all worked out well like yours.
All part of life’s great tapestry
[...] came back with another post with food for thought for all of [...]
Hi Gary, I came here via Grannymar’s blog. Great post above. Like GM I’m sorry you had to learn the lesson the hard way, I’m lucky that all this has kicked off at at time when my fiance and I have savings (modest) in the bank and pretty low rent in a comfortable apartment with nice helpfull landlords. So many times in the last 5 years (since I graduated from Uni) I was tempted to buy a house or rent a plush apartment and I’d get jealous of friends that were doing those things. My fiance was more sensible , he saved and encouraged me to do the same and we made this apartment a home. Now we are in a great position to weather this storm despite the fact that we are both facing the prospect of unemployment!
Your story has really touched a nerve. It’s a lesson well told. Over the last 5 years, the banks were trying to throw money at us to renovate our home. Friends and family said we were mad – sell the old pile, make a fortune and build a mansion. We had a sick child – I couldn’t even contemplate the stress. Boy am I glad, as I could see myself like your Suzanne, sitting in my bang on trend designer sitting room watching shite on my sky box while self medicating with a gin and Prozac! We stayed put, my kids are the 4th generation of their dad’s family to live in our home – you can’t buy that kind of connection. Humans are the only living creatures that treat homes as a financial interest. When did that become a good idea?
Marian and Annb – Thanks for the comments !
The really sad thing about that whole moneypit episode is that it was a beautiful house and in an ideal place inside my head I would love to be still there, then I remember how we could never heat it properly and the huge bills that came every month from the utility company’s – but the worst part of that house was how every night we would all retreat to our own rooms and some nights I wouldn’t even see my children at all.
With hindsight we should have stayed in the previous house as we since moved two more times trying to recreate that one, but you live and learn and living in a smaller home now where everyone HAS to sit together to eat or watch TV means that we are still together and our house IS a home now.
I wandered over from Grannymar’s blog and am glad I did. The good news is that you learned your lesson in time to recover. I remember an article I read many moons ago about different mothers. It went something like this: Some mothers put the weed flowers their children pick in a mason jar and stick them on top of the fridge. Other mothers put them in her best vase and proudly display them on the coffee table.
I think that goes for houses too. Some houses are homes and others are just fancy buildings. You obviously found that out.
Darlene – thanks for the comment, you’re absolutely right of course. One important thing that I haven’t mentioned is neighbours, we have great neighbours here now and they are worth not ever considering moving house again for, the big house that I speak of was in a street of similar big, and bigger houses where you never saw anyone let alone spoke to them.