Home Invasion

People always say that moving house is the most stressful thing you can do as a homeowner. Well, as you may remember, we moved house last summer, and yes, it was pretty damned stressful.

But to be honest, it was a walk in the park compared to what we've done this summer... getting a new bathroom fitted.

There's something extremely disconcerting about having workmen in your house. Home is where you go to get away from other people - but when there's strange men clomping around in it in big boots with big hammers and bigger attitudes, where do you go to escape?

Before I go any further, let me tell you that now it's finished, we couldn't be happier with the way our new bathroom looks. Louise has a keen sense of design and she's been planning this since we moved in (while we've also been saving like mad). I'm proud of the way her vision has come to life. I'm not unhappy with the work that's been done in fitting it either. The problem - and from talking to other people it seems a common experience when people let builders into their home - has been the lack of communication.

Not being told when work has been delayed. Not being told when things have been damaged. Not being told the final bill wouldn't match the quote* (because of a few "unforeseen extras"). Just generally not being told anything. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. "What they don't know won't hurt 'em!" "Mañana, mañana..." as the Spanish apparently have it, or, "Ee-ven-shwall-ee!" as Manuel from Fawlty Towers used to put it.

When tradesmen act like this, they put you in the position of having to constantly chase and question and pester them... they somehow make you feel like you're in the wrong. Like you're an overbearing nag, an awkward customer, or a precious control freak... when actually, you just want to know WHAT'S GOING ON!? It all makes me very uncomfortable - and it shouldn't. I know, I know, I need to toughen up, grow a thicker skin and a harder heart... but why can't people just do what they've said they're going to do... or, if they don't or can't, at least have the decency to tell you? Is that really too much to ask?

I'm stressed out. I need to go relax in our new bath.


(*Yes, it will.)

Beach Front Property

I watched the movie The Ghost (or if you're in America: The Ghost Writer) on DVD this weekend. I was a big fan of the book, so naturally the film left me a little cold. It was moodily directed by Roman Polanski, with decent enough performances from Ewan McGregor (a little wooden at first, but he warms up), Pierce Brosnan and particularly Olivia Williams in full-on Cherie Blair bad hair day. But the book was far more gripping and the final twist in the movie felt grafted on, even though the screenplay was written by Harris himself.

There was one thing I loved about the film though, and that was the location.

The majority of the story takes place in the former PM's American retreat in a beach-front property on a remote island off Massachusetts. The house itself is rather cold and utilitarian, but the office McGregor does most of his writing in features a floor-to-ceiling window which looks directly out onto the beach and sea. It's not a sun-drenched California beach though. The sky outside is grey and filled with rolling clouds. The sea is choppy and uninviting. The beach is covered with patches of scrub grass and always deserted. And yet I was drawn to this place more than I've been drawn to any movie location in a long time. I could imagine myself living there, writing in that room, staring at out this stark yet beautiful panorama... though I have to admit I'd probably end up doing more staring and less writing than was good for me. It's no wonder McGregor's character is constantly distracted from his work.

I'm sure there would be all kinds of problems associated with owning a beach front property, particularly one where the weather was anything but idyllic. Soil erosion, salt water rust, rising damp, sand constantly blowing in every time you open the door... but it'd be worth it to stare out on a view like that every day. Not that we're unhappy with the view from our own front windows. That view (below) was among the first things that drew us to this house and it's something we appreciate every day.

It's probably more beautiful - is slightly less dramatic - than the view from the beach house in The Ghost. In an ideal world, I'd want both. A house looking out on beautiful countryside and a beach retreat too. Hey, I can dream, right?

What about you? Have you ever been drawn to a movie or TV location and wished you could live there? Where would your dream home be situated? If you're living in it right now, you are allowed a second pick...

On the subject of beaches, this week's Thoughtballoons script is set on one... though one with a little bit more sunshine. The chosen character is the Silver Surfer and you can read my take on him by clicking here.