I am not fond of the house we live in.
It is a vast improvement to where we lived before, and why we moved.
But… life here is getting harder. The stairs are a struggle for my arthritic knees. It gets too hot in the summer because the insulation in the loft is ancient. We freeze in the winter because we only have a few ancient storage heaters. Parking is another nightmare because we live on a busy and noisy main road!
Just lately, I am feeling an infinity with the place as it starts to show its age. Which leads me to wonder how much longer we can live here. I long to live near woods or water, preferably both…
Serious cracks are appearing on walls and ceilings, and ominous creaks follow me up and down the stairs, and not just from my knees!
The chimney stack on the roof is supported by steel bands, but chunks of brickwork rain down into our yard on a regular basis.
Doors swing closed all by themselves and the bathroom floor slopes like the Swiss alps.
This house was built in 1887, which makes it 134 years old. So, how old is too old for a domestic domicile?
I suppose there will come a time when the cost of repairs or renovation will become a bridge too far. A bit like me?
I take vitamins, fish oil, turmeric and as healthy a diet as I can manage, and attempt yoga every day, but am I doing any good? And when did I switch from being a silver surfer into a
mouldy golden oldie?
How long before I get condemned, along with the house?