Shoot for the moon, Land among the stars: Home Edition
Go on, admit it. You've done it too. The affordable property pages aren't half as fun as the ones with residences on the market for over a million. I love to look, and keep my eye on a few favourites, and as a result I might be about to move into my dream house. Yes, really. (Well, technically.)
So a couple of years ago, among all the bad taste footballer's mansions with plastic statuary and Olympic swimming pools, I found the perfect place for me.
It's only a few miles from Demi's house. It's a huge Victorian Gothic country house out in Sherwood Forest, next to a lake. And you know how I love the woods.
It was designed by one of the most influential architects of the period, and has impressive literary connections - Lord Byron is not the only famous writer from around here. A local lad's very famous early 20th century novel was set in the grounds of what I'm going to call Belvoir House.
I wish I could be more specific. The photos, the property listing, the history of the place are all right here online, but telling you much at all will be a neon sign potentially giving the Internet my soon-to-be home address, so I'm afraid I'll have to fictionalise it as best I can. The image above is a drawing by local Victorian architect Watson Fothergill of a building in a similar style. (Anyone who knows me well - I will totally email you the details.)
Belvoir (pronounced Beaver) is a local name from a different part of the East Midlands of England, but it will do nicely here.
oOo
So the curious thing that I noticed about Belvoir House is that it went on the market for about a million and a half, a good couple of years ago - and despite its being drop dead gorgeous, it's still for sale now. The price has dropped and dropped to £800,000. Why?
Well, when I first found it I might have accidentally called the estate agent to try to arrange a viewing. They saw straight through me and didn't return my calls, but before it got to that stage, the agent revealed the problem.
As you might imagine, the house has a number of outbuildings tucked in its shadow - the original stables, coach house and so on. And when the present owners bought the house, they declined to buy the outbuildings. The outbuildings were converted into residences. And let's face it, anyone who wants to spend £1.5 million on a country house in the woods does not want neighbours.
Fast forward two years, and not only are the owners now clearly getting desperate to sell, but they've even put it up for rent. When Demi's girlfriend and kids came up to stay last weekend, and I began to get that time-to-move-on feeling, I found it there on the rental pages and began to try to figure out how to get my mitts on the £2750 per month that I'd need to live in it.
And after I sighed and went to the homes I *can* afford, guess what I found. For the first time in years, one of those outbuildings had come up for rent within the last week.
Did I go to view that? My dears, I was on that phone at the ass-crack of dawn the following morning. :)
You can imagine the driveway up to Belvoir House. You turn off the main road and drive up half a mile of woodland, giggling manically, before you find the house - and behind it, the stables, and "my" cottage.
I could hardly get out of the car before I saw my first deer.
Here's a photo taken from the woods - you can see a bit of Belvoir House at the far left, my place in the middle, and the rest of the coach house and stable on the right.
I first went to see the place for an official viewing on Tuesday, but stayed so long having tea with a neighbour that I ended up back there just about every day this week. I can't stay away. I love it. And the neighbour seems to want me there.
It just so happens that my neighbour recently got into a little bit of re-enactment and has got involved with a sewing group who insist on authentic, hand sewn costume, but won't give her the help she needs as a relatively new sewer.
And then I showed up. She thinks it's meant to be. :)
Later in the week, this neighbour helped me blag my way into "Big House" for that viewing I wanted two years ago - this photo (above) was taken from one of the (much) higher floors. My place is at the bottom of the picture, and that's the edge of "my" garden on the right.
And here are the woods at the end of the garden. My cottage has a wood burning stove, and according to the neighbour, an ancient law gives us the right to bring home as much fallen firewood as we can carry.
Why have I not snapped it up yet? Broadband. No frickin' cable broadband (I have an online business, remember), and the cellphone signal is weak. I have ordered some kit on a sale-or-return basis that should boost it, and I'm taking it over there on Monday to test it.
Also on Monday, I'll be meeting with the handyman who is going to decorate the entire place before it's let again. If I pay for the paint, I can pick the colours. So I'll be over here on Pinterest looking at interior design...
Oh - and the punchline? My cottage isn't actually a stable or a tack room or any of that. Curiously, it has two windows that overlook the gardens of Belvoir House, and one that overlooks its private courtyard, and a locked door onto it. It is part of the house, and a bricked up doorway gives it away... on the other side of that doorway is the dining room.
My cottage is the original kitchen.
So technically, in about three weeks I might be moving into my dream home.
It's like I said, kids: shoot for the moon, and you'll land among the stars. :D