Do you look at the Property section and fantasise about buying a second home? Do you want to live the dream: lunch by the pool, sundowners on the terrace, open fires in winter (hellish hangovers in the morning)? Somewhere that has more sunshine than the UK, a beautiful location, an old building with original features. Hey, it needs a bit of work but that’s part of the fun. What can possibly go wrong?
I read psychology as part of my General degree at Durham. One thing sticks in my mind. If you build castles in the air you are psychotic, if you live in them you are schizophrenic. From reading the Saturday Property section with a gin and tonic in hand is but a short step from buying a holiday house. After that there is a period of at least three or four years to repent your impetuosity. During that time you wish you had been sectioned on the fateful day you ventured into property pornography.
Negotiations with local officials have been protracted and expensive. Builders have come and gone. Money has simply gone and in frighteningly large chunks. The original budget has been exceeded to an extent that is incomprehensible but, the bank assures you, is the real state of affairs. However, like all nightmares eventually you wake up, impoverished, but owning a beautiful new home. For a few years you proudly entertain your friends. Fortunately you built in a lot of cupboards to store the scented candles they bring – usually in coveted Jo Malone black tissue. Many friends will not come as they have their own second homes. Then it’s time to think about selling up.
I went to France yesterday with friends who are in the third year of restoring a lovely property. It sits on a remote ridge surrounded by forestry. In the war it was used by a group of maquis to receive supplies parachuted in by the Allies. Seven of their members were ambushed here by the Germans and executed. There is a memorial to them.
They are about to start enjoying themselves here but, seems to me, that it’s a lot less stressful to be a guest. Now, where did I put that scented candle? Which reminds me of a visit to Ethiopia in 1998. Jo Malone was new, massively fashionable and likewise expensive. It was unfortunate that news of Jo’s cult status had not reached the British embassy in Addis, so our gift was received pretty coolly, or as coolly as possible in Addis
As Hugh Massingberd puts it, in his- to me at least- highly entertaining memoirs, “Daydream Believer” or ” Confessions of a Hero Worshipper” ” In the title of another cheesy pop song, I was a ‘Daydream Believer’ – or should that be ‘Deceiver’?”
I confess I was deceived by the title of this piece into believing I was about to read your commentary on his excellent, hilarious work.
I read Hugh Montgomery-Massingberd’s autobiography with much pleasure. I recall him taking a weeks holiday, staying at the Travellers’ Club and going to film matinees. However, I had forgotten that it is called Daydream Believer. Thank you for reminding me.
Christopher, I hope that your refreshing honesty won’t discourage others from inviting you to stay. From prior knowledge of the identity of your host, you will at least have been spared poor wine.
Well, I’m not expecting an invitation from the Bishop of Stepney.