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Heck, that house is far, far too big. I’d feel compelled to fill it up with people before anything else, and before I knew it I’d be wanting to move out again, so I could have a teensy amount of peace and quiet.
Oddly enough, only yesterday I was idly daydreaming of my own dream house for rattling around in. I present Derwent Isle House:
I’d like to invite some friends around and create a new society. A society which is centred around working in the kitchen garden during the day, and getting smashed and staging theatrical pieces and singalongs on the lawn of an evening. And then sleeping in till noon. I don’t ask for much.
So, um, I’d probably be most focussed on fitting the house with the right kind of beds, and heavy curtains, er, and kitchen implements. And lots of suitably flouncy clothes. And I’d doubtless spend a fair wodge of that ‘unlimited money’ on stocking the wine cellar, although that probably goes without saying. But, y’know, it’s all about the front lawn, the trees, the fresh garden produce, the sheer joy of lying around on the grass and getting hammered in the open air after you’ve been digging all afternoon. Oh, and being able to trot down to the beach when you've got the spins. Winters would be pretty much the same, except inside and even more lazy. |
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