I was watching a program this morning on the BBC called “Homes Under The Hammer”. In this erstwhile vehicle, a smug couple show people, usually property developers, buying houses at auction, gutting them and then selling them again or renting them out. On the bit I saw, a man bought a house in Folkstone, and then employed his “right-hand man” to carry out the restoration - which he duly did.
As far as I can tell, the man with the money no longer does any work, apart from buying the houses at auction and handling the financial side. The cameras were allowed into his fine country bungalow, built to his design. He has a beautiful home, built to the highest standards, and within easy reach of the town of Folkstone. The grounds have two swimming pools, one covered, one outdoor. There are also a tennis court, crazy golf course, children's play area and extensive decked area for barbecues etc. His children go to private schools and his wife and mother live a life of leisure thanks to his self-made riches.
He, quite obviously, loves his house. He sees it as the expression of his success, and a comfort that he has earned for himself. He has even set up a garden bench and table, angled so that he can sit there with a glass of wine and a fine cigar, and survey his wonderful residence. As he recounted this story, he simply beamed with pleasure and happiness.
But, is he really happy? Has all this wealth and success and earthly possessions really made him truly happy?
Yes. Yes it has.
It's comforting to think that this man, his wife and even his children, will all be dead one day, and their lovely home will be sold to people who don't care about it as much as he did, and they'll probably make decor and home alteration choices that would deeply irritate him if he were still alive, and eventually the house and all of his once beloved possessions will decay and be destroyed, turning to dirt and soil and dust as must everything.
Posted by: Jason | December 09, 2004 at 05:52 PM