2 August - In Every Dream Home & Heartaches
A friend lives on a highly rated street near Portobello, you know, Cambridge, Oxford, Bassett. He owns a bright and atmospheric and cosy top floor flat, but not an entire house like Kirsty Young does, Rick Mayall does, Harry Potter’s director does, Damon Albarn does and god knows how many other non-celebs with City salaries or trust funds.
His girlfriend says that, nearly every time they approach his building or leave it, the talk turns to the properties around them or prices or if it doesn’t it’s still a thought he holds in their heads. They never tire of staring at the cream facades, the imposing grey steps, the gleaming black gates, the small front gardens no one ever uses. They lament ‘How could we own one of these?’ And swiftly follow that with ‘Well it’s not very likely is it?’ Though it’s always possible, but at 40 maybe they have learnt to be realistic about their ambitions. They can think about a number of things, but are not sure they want to burn themselves out trying to make them happen.
This thought cannot fail to make them feel bad even when the sun is shining through the blossoms of the cherry-less trees ‘We are losers who only have a flat in this road, not a house’ they think. ‘How did we let that happen?’ Selling the flat in this road would allow for a house elsewhere, but … it wouldn’t be the same. It’s these roads he wants. It gets worse if they then drive past Holland Park streets where the houses are even grander and not blighted by Westway noise and pollution. But they don’t go that way. Eventually, as they walk to a coffeeshop in Golborne road and have a wander, the thought recedes….till they go back.
She thinks there’s a documentary in this. Maybe in fact one is already done and dusted. You know, here’s one of these houses to live in for a year or forever, (actually you’d have to say forever and then take it away – who’s ever heard of a programme that really lets you keep the spoils - or you’d prejudice the results of the test) and see what changes in your life. Of course lots changes, but how much and how? When you’ve finished re-decorating and giving dinner parties to show off? What happens then? Do you then worry you still have a job that’s no longer that inspiring or that your grey hair multiplies no matter where you live? Or that the house sucks all your money and you can’t feed a dog or that you can’t afford the modern art that surely should be adorning your walls?
Does it make him feel worse because he can’t sort of provide for eventual partner/family? Does he ever worry she may leave him to go out with someone else (they have friends like that) who has a superior property portfolio? Maybe even another house out of town in the country? Never mind that anyone can drive to the country at the weekend if they so wish? These two never do for example. Does she feel worse because hey, she’s not the MD of some super duper hedge fund or of The Groucho (or divorced from such which is usually the preferred route) and thus able to say ‘Darling, do not worry, Daddy says I can buy 1000 sq ft in Mayfair, next to the Jimmy Choo shop. Isn’t that supah?’
Funnily enough (or thank god at least) they do not trouble their heads with car envy. For some reason they drive what they drive and never give longing glances to the Mercs, the Beamers or the Classics. Same for clothes… they don’t feel so bad that they can’t shop in Bond St except that at sales time.
The girlfriend lives in a not so great neighbourhood in another side of London. As she walks down her street there are better houses than her flat of course, and even better ones a few minutes away and she could maybe get one of those if she wanted. The gap is not so unattainable. So she never feels that bad about life. She wonders if this is how it feels if you’re ugly and every morning you bump into Cindy Crawford buying the newspaper at your local? If she weren’t there, would you notice it so much that you’re missing what she’s got? Ie. height, boobs, luscious locks, a beauty spot and a Rolex? Would you be happier standing next to Kathy Burke? Hang on, she has a Bafta right? And Cindy doesn’t…
So, she sort of dreads walking down his street with him sometimes for fear of voicing ‘God this is such a broken record conversation’. She wants to say ‘You’ve never asked me what some of my favourite lyrics are, I can sing them to you… One day I’d like I hope to hear them sang to me.
"I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread."
His girlfriend doesn’t like reggae, but this is her exception. She’s sentimental like that, all you need is love blah blah. Admittedly, she’s never asked him for his favourite lyrics either. Perhaps they’ll surprise her just as much.
Me? When it comes to this I must confess to some Bryan Ferry cynism....
"In every dream home a heartache/ And every step I take/ Takes me further from heaven/Is there a heaven?I`d like to think so/Standards of living/ They´re rising daily/ But home oh sweet home/ It´s only a saying."
And I'll stop there as I think the song is about inflatable dolls no?
His girlfriend says that, nearly every time they approach his building or leave it, the talk turns to the properties around them or prices or if it doesn’t it’s still a thought he holds in their heads. They never tire of staring at the cream facades, the imposing grey steps, the gleaming black gates, the small front gardens no one ever uses. They lament ‘How could we own one of these?’ And swiftly follow that with ‘Well it’s not very likely is it?’ Though it’s always possible, but at 40 maybe they have learnt to be realistic about their ambitions. They can think about a number of things, but are not sure they want to burn themselves out trying to make them happen.
This thought cannot fail to make them feel bad even when the sun is shining through the blossoms of the cherry-less trees ‘We are losers who only have a flat in this road, not a house’ they think. ‘How did we let that happen?’ Selling the flat in this road would allow for a house elsewhere, but … it wouldn’t be the same. It’s these roads he wants. It gets worse if they then drive past Holland Park streets where the houses are even grander and not blighted by Westway noise and pollution. But they don’t go that way. Eventually, as they walk to a coffeeshop in Golborne road and have a wander, the thought recedes….till they go back.
She thinks there’s a documentary in this. Maybe in fact one is already done and dusted. You know, here’s one of these houses to live in for a year or forever, (actually you’d have to say forever and then take it away – who’s ever heard of a programme that really lets you keep the spoils - or you’d prejudice the results of the test) and see what changes in your life. Of course lots changes, but how much and how? When you’ve finished re-decorating and giving dinner parties to show off? What happens then? Do you then worry you still have a job that’s no longer that inspiring or that your grey hair multiplies no matter where you live? Or that the house sucks all your money and you can’t feed a dog or that you can’t afford the modern art that surely should be adorning your walls?
Does it make him feel worse because he can’t sort of provide for eventual partner/family? Does he ever worry she may leave him to go out with someone else (they have friends like that) who has a superior property portfolio? Maybe even another house out of town in the country? Never mind that anyone can drive to the country at the weekend if they so wish? These two never do for example. Does she feel worse because hey, she’s not the MD of some super duper hedge fund or of The Groucho (or divorced from such which is usually the preferred route) and thus able to say ‘Darling, do not worry, Daddy says I can buy 1000 sq ft in Mayfair, next to the Jimmy Choo shop. Isn’t that supah?’
Funnily enough (or thank god at least) they do not trouble their heads with car envy. For some reason they drive what they drive and never give longing glances to the Mercs, the Beamers or the Classics. Same for clothes… they don’t feel so bad that they can’t shop in Bond St except that at sales time.
The girlfriend lives in a not so great neighbourhood in another side of London. As she walks down her street there are better houses than her flat of course, and even better ones a few minutes away and she could maybe get one of those if she wanted. The gap is not so unattainable. So she never feels that bad about life. She wonders if this is how it feels if you’re ugly and every morning you bump into Cindy Crawford buying the newspaper at your local? If she weren’t there, would you notice it so much that you’re missing what she’s got? Ie. height, boobs, luscious locks, a beauty spot and a Rolex? Would you be happier standing next to Kathy Burke? Hang on, she has a Bafta right? And Cindy doesn’t…
So, she sort of dreads walking down his street with him sometimes for fear of voicing ‘God this is such a broken record conversation’. She wants to say ‘You’ve never asked me what some of my favourite lyrics are, I can sing them to you… One day I’d like I hope to hear them sang to me.
"I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right; I wanna love you every day and every night: We'll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads; We'll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed; We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread."
His girlfriend doesn’t like reggae, but this is her exception. She’s sentimental like that, all you need is love blah blah. Admittedly, she’s never asked him for his favourite lyrics either. Perhaps they’ll surprise her just as much.
Me? When it comes to this I must confess to some Bryan Ferry cynism....
"In every dream home a heartache/ And every step I take/ Takes me further from heaven/Is there a heaven?I`d like to think so/Standards of living/ They´re rising daily/ But home oh sweet home/ It´s only a saying."
And I'll stop there as I think the song is about inflatable dolls no?
posted by Lisa Taylor @ 7:09 AM
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