Talking Property:Having no interest in home improvement is a modern secular sin as bad as, say, not wanting to buy a house at all, writes Frances O'Rourke
You hear them on the phone in the office, the muttered words becoming clearer as the voice rises dangerously. I'm glad I'm not at the other end of the line.
"What do you mean, we won't have the bevelled double doors delivered by noon today? The carpenter's arriving at 1.45 and the guy with the special French brass hinge fittings. Do you seriously mean to tell me that the doors I ordered eight months ago are going to be one day late?"
Or you meet a friend or colleague and ask casually how they are. They assume - who wouldn't? - that you're asking how their building project is going, because clearly this is their number one concern, overriding all others.
"I said to the builder, look, you've got to be out before the baby. Their labour stops when mine starts, I'm serious."
Or: "What do you mean we can't put the wall there because it's too close to the house? I've already ordered the specially imported bricks. You're the architect, why didn't you measure the back garden properly?"
Or less angsty: "Oh yes, the builder's birthday was yesterday. Well we had to have a bit of a celebration - they've been with us so long they're really part of the family."
It's exhausting just listening to people talking about home renovation, never mind actually doing it.
You may have been thinking of a little light home improvement yourself - say, replacing the white brick fireplace in the livingroom with something less naff - but one of these conversations reminds you of how gruelling the whole business is.
Horrible memories of brief encounters with renovation in the early days of home ownership float to the surface.
The builders who arrived at 7.30am, kanga hammer at the ready; making endless cups of tea and "hang" sandwiches for painters; endless dust as floorboards are ripped up for weeks as you rewire the house, one of those expensive jobs that you can't even enjoy looking at.
What's to enjoy? Yet even those of us who have no particular talent for interior décor feel compelled to compete: having no interest in home improvement is a modern secular sin as bad as, say, not wanting to buy a house at all.
It was simpler in the 1960s and 1970s, although it didn't seem so at the time. Then it was all about who could build bigger bookshelves most cheaply, using bricks bought for half nothing down the country, or knit their own sofa/lampshades, make a bed out of three bits of plywood and nylons stuffed with socks.
But competitive interior décor has moved on exponentially as our supplements show: those of us without the décor gene will be overwhelmed, even intimidated by the really stunning display of smooth high tech kitchens, where sleek stainless steel is complemented by saucepans in colours that match the fruit in the bowl; of livingrooms furnished with dramatic modern chairs and jewel-like rugs; of gardens manicured and decked to create a lush landscape that still enjoys Zen tranquillity.
Those of you inclined to criticise house reviews for their hyperbole probably haven't seen what people do with their homes nowadays.
Which is where we came in: people go to endless trouble - and nowadays, expense - to get exactly the right doorknobs, the custom-made fireplaces, the "wet" bathrooms fully-tiled in subtle yet contrasting colours, the knockout kitchens with storage space for everything flooded with light in extensions that look like something designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.
And what always amazes me is that having gone to all this trouble, they want to sell their home.
Why? Wouldn't you want to stay in this beautiful home forever and never go through all that hell again?
No, they will tell you - the serious serial home renovator gets restless, wants to take on another challenge.
Well that, or tragically, the cost and super-stress of the whole business has led to what estate agents call MBU (marriage break-up) and the now beautiful family home has no family to go with it any more. Truly a modern irony.
No, better not to start, to stay out of the race. There are still people like me out there who feel the house they bought in the 1930s/40s/50s/60s/70s is good enough for them just as it was.
You'll see these in the property pages too - homes in good locations (often with swirly patterned carpets) in good structural condition but needing refurbishment, or, as the ads put it, a home that new owners can put their stamp on. And the whole sorry cycle will start all over again.
Resist the urge to do something with the mouldy bathroom, to add en suites and a downstairs loo (who will clean all those toilets, eh?).
Okay, you won't make top dollar when you sell it (but aim for an executor sale, then it won't be your problem).
Okay, you will have to endure the pity of your peers, who have never been shy about proffering helpful home-improvement ideas over the years.
But think of all the money you'll save, the stress you'll avoid. Remember, a house is somewhere to live, not to photograph.
