My three girls? I wouldn’t swap them for all the tea in China. Hubby too, that goes without saying, and all too often does go without saying, but I wouldn’t swap him either.
My vase? The one in the picture? Well, that’s worth more to me than my settee. Hubby bought it for me a few years back and once when he suggested selling it I told him to sell the settee instead, I could quite happily sit on cushions on the floor and still smile at the strange orange shape as the sun catches my vase through the window and leaves patterns on the wall.
My house? Now that’s a strange one.
At first it was well worth the joys and tears as we rode the “Rollercoaster Ride” of buying our first house. It was worth the condemned boiler and the first of the winter eveniings watching TV huddled under duvets until the heating was fixed.
It was worth its weight in at least silver when the girl’s friends could call for them on the way to school, the lively chatter banishing the memories of the early morning bus rides to school from our previous address. It’s central location making it the perfect place to fill up with happy teenagers each year for a Christmas party.
As the girls grew and aquired the trappings of teenage years and young adulthood, the house became full, and I would guess much heavier but it was worth more than its weight in gold as they moved out, back in, and out again and found their own places in the world, knowing the house was still there and we would always find a space for them in it if needed.
The girls seem to have finally settled into their own lives, I visit, but mostly watch with a proud smile from the sidelines. Hubby and I rattle around in the house on our own most days. I’ve played with the house – one of the biggest toys I’ve ever had – I’ve moved things around, I’ve decorated, we have an orange and yellow sitting room, full of “Sunshine and Spice“, a blue kitchen of very “Seasideish” appearance, not to mention my well placed settee in the corner “Lightbox“.
House prices keep rising, and here faster than lots of other places as newer rail links add to our location as a comfortable commuter town but somehow the value of our house to me has been slipping. Thoughts of the seaside and harbour at Weymouth fill my dreams, and a chance to step down a few notches in the rat-race, to work less and live more.
In answer to my own question, what is my house really worth?
It’s worth just enough to take us to the seaside, to take a step further into a possible semi-retirement. To buy another house outright with at least two, probably three, but possibly four bedrooms to decorate until my heart’s content and fill with visitors, family and friends, as often as they’d like to visit.