So we're homeowners now. We have our feet on the property ladder, we have enetered the great cpaitalost gangbang. Strange unwarranted thoughts have flitted across my mind about buying second ones to let, I have stopped myself, told myself not to be evil, reminded myself how the buy to letters are the scum of the earth who inflated prices to the extent that you are now required to work at least nine days out of every seven, that I will never join their number. That to do so would be to declare myself a non-human, a pile of flesh concerned only with profit, with no finer feelings, no appetites beyond the relentless accumulation of pounds.
Your whole worldview shifts and lurches suddenly, you see, it's an upsetting thing. I pay attention to interest rates. Mrs Coastaltown reads magazines with pictures of expensive furniture in and whimpers occasionally. I fret about the prices of the houses on either side, when next door went on sale at 10K more than we paid for ours did I shake my head sadly and say "madness, ten thousand in only a month, what a sordid state of affairs, this cannot be sustained, society is sick, poor first time buyers"? No, I did not. I punched the air and said "yesss! ten thousand!" and then immediately felt guilty that I did so.
I am a self-loathing home-owner. In committing an act that is the apotheosis of the average consumer I have put myself firmly in one camp, the very act of getting a mortgage puts me in opposition to the shifting hordes of reneers and itinerants, those who want a taste of the sweet sweet homeowning candy but are unable to get some, their hands and mouths pressed against the sweetshop window as Mrs Coastaltown and I debate the energy ratings of white goods. I do not wish to be in opposition, but what's good for the homeowners is bad for the wannabes, and vice versa. The housing market drops and we are out of pocket, it rises further and we're rich but with nowhere to go, and so self interest rears it's ugly head. This is how we become conservatives, people, unless we're very, very careful.
Your whole worldview shifts and lurches suddenly, you see, it's an upsetting thing. I pay attention to interest rates. Mrs Coastaltown reads magazines with pictures of expensive furniture in and whimpers occasionally. I fret about the prices of the houses on either side, when next door went on sale at 10K more than we paid for ours did I shake my head sadly and say "madness, ten thousand in only a month, what a sordid state of affairs, this cannot be sustained, society is sick, poor first time buyers"? No, I did not. I punched the air and said "yesss! ten thousand!" and then immediately felt guilty that I did so.
I am a self-loathing home-owner. In committing an act that is the apotheosis of the average consumer I have put myself firmly in one camp, the very act of getting a mortgage puts me in opposition to the shifting hordes of reneers and itinerants, those who want a taste of the sweet sweet homeowning candy but are unable to get some, their hands and mouths pressed against the sweetshop window as Mrs Coastaltown and I debate the energy ratings of white goods. I do not wish to be in opposition, but what's good for the homeowners is bad for the wannabes, and vice versa. The housing market drops and we are out of pocket, it rises further and we're rich but with nowhere to go, and so self interest rears it's ugly head. This is how we become conservatives, people, unless we're very, very careful.
Comments
Post a Comment