Moving house

Nightjar wrote:I thought your ultimate domicile dream was to share a mega-flat with your brother round the back of Horrids?

Anything to get out of South Kensington basically.

Nightjar wrote:

Nightjar wrote:I thought your ultimate domicile dream was to share a mega-flat with your brother round the back of Horrids?

Anything to get out of South Kensington basically.

It was. We decided our relationship was better served by separate residences. Also, he had this fixation - now to be solved thanks to a lesbian - of having a child. I categorically do not want to live with a baby, and go through another childhood just as my own graduates from his teens. I'd be almost 60 by the time this soon to be child of his leaves home - and it's a girl, so I'd probably have it going through my wardrobes regularly.

I'm hoping to enjoy myself after Covid-19 and once Monkeypox has made its direction of travel through the population known, not babysit.

I once went in a single-story (none of that mezzanine nonsense) apartment overlooking the Außenalster in Hamburg that was so enormous that it boggled my tiny little mind.

What with being from London and all.

The place was like a ch*ffing endless labyrinth of wide corridors leading to palacial, high ceilinged room after high ceilinged room with en-suite bathroom after en-suite bathroom.

You could'f easily lived in it for a year without ever meeting another person.

It was like four huge London flats stuck together.

Also, cos it was German and was owned by all very rich Germans with impeccable modernist taste all of the walls were plain white, underfoot it was all glorious 1880s period parquet flooring and in every room there were framed, ultra-cool original paintings and expensive art prints and all Bauhaus fixtures and fittings.

I almost fainted with awe.

I was only 19.

Bless me.

Actually, it was probably the Binnenalster.

This gives an idea of the view...

We did seriously consider it, and looked at a couple of places together a few years ago. I think at this point we'd be looking to sell anyway, having probably fallen out, and certainly with his life course being what it's about to become.

It would've had some advantages. The ability to fit all of my clothes and shoes under the same roof as myself. A larger bedroom for my son - for instance, he wants a double bed, but his bedroom is just too small for that to be an option. It's not so much that it wouldn't be ideal, it's that it literally wouldn't fit.

And no, we did not look round the back of Horrids. That's my ultimate dream, not his. Our focus was on one of my lesser grade dreams.

Even combined, our budgets could not hope to cover the four bedrooms with e/s (master also with dressing room and adjoining lounge area), double reception room with balcony off, grand reception hall, private sitting room with terrace off, guest WC, and kitchen with butlers office, apartment in a particular block in Basil Street which I've had my eye on since the age of about 12.

I visited it once when it was on the market, when I was about 16. I was friendly with an agent on Yeomans Row, I used to stop by sometimes to have tea and talk about property. He was like John Major. He arranged it for me. It has longed since sailed into the world of eight figures.

See though, I was listening and then I went and remembered.

You seemed faintly obsessed with living on that street.

Like it was a kind of exemplar or personal achievement.

What was it called again?

Also, how old is Milo/Miloe/Mylo/Meelo/Miley/Merlot/Meowlo now?

He must be at least 15 or 16 now, no?

Does he want to go to university?

If so, then rearranging your dwelling plans in order to give him a proper sized, grown up bedroom with a proper sized, grown up bed in is probably a bit late.

Nightjar wrote:I once went in a single-story (none of that mezzanine nonsense) apartment overlooking the Außenalster in Hamburg that was so enormous that it boggled my tiny little mind.

What with being from London and all.

The place was like a ch*ffing endless labyrinth of wide corridors leading to palacial, high ceilinged room after high ceilinged room with en-suite bathroom after en-suite bathroom.

You could'f easily lived in it for a year without ever meeting another person.

It was like four huge London flats stuck together.

Also, cos it was German and was owned by all very rich Germans with impeccable modernist taste all of the walls were plain white, underfoot it was all glorious 1880s period parquet flooring and in every room there were framed, ultra-cool original paintings and expensive art prints and all Bauhaus fixtures and fittings.

I almost fainted with awe.

I was only 19.

Bless me.

Yes, German housing is a different world. I had a similar experience in Berlin. I was invited to an 'at home' event by an American musician. From the outside her building looked fairly basic. Nice enough, but just a German tenement of no special charm. Inside it was a three floored apartment with a glass walled gallery, a double height entertaining space, and even had its own orchestra pit, among other features.

All furnished with restrained good taste. Everything worked beautifully - none of that British 'oh that light switch is a bit temperamental' stuff.

Do you wish you'd lived in Hamburg? I sometimes think I might've liked to have given Germany a real go. At the time Berlin wasn't very glamorous or busy - it felt very second tier among European capitals, although it was interesting enough. That was very shortsighted of me.

He's 15 this year. He either wants to be an architect or a pilot. Both seem reasonably complicated to get into, but I'm impressed by his sustained commitment to the idea of both. There's none of the 'I don't really know' stuff I associate with that age group. I am now paying for flying lessons, which are apparently going well - and a more intense schedule of them has been booked for this summer.

He can't have a grown up bedroom because I can't afford one without moving somewhere else. I'm not living anywhere else, unless it's an EU country - or soon to be one.

Nightjar wrote:Actually, it was probably the Binnenalster.

This gives an idea of the view...

Yes, that's nice. You'd feel like life stretched before you with a view like that.

Nightjar wrote:See though, I was listening and then I went and remembered.

You seemed faintly obsessed with living on that street.

Like it was a kind of exemplar or personal achievement.

What was it called again?

VG.

It is an exemplar. There's no street in the world more glamorous. Even walking along it causes excited happiness and a feeling of contentment that everything is as good as it can be. It's like a stage. As Holly Golightly would say, nothing bad could ever happen to a person in Basil Street.

It's a little known fact that Hamburg is the most wealthy city in Germany and one one of the richest in the world.

My, then-girlfriend's arschloch Dad ("Smurf Song", "Yes Sir I Can Boogie" etc) used to conspicuously brag about it to me whenever I was there.

More millionaires-per-capita etc etc...

He'd also bang on about how the big hotel on the Binnen was one of the top hotels in world according to Michelin or Zagat or some such crap.

Not to mention the snuggle rumpusing Star Club and all that other backside torpedo I've also been clattering on about ever since for the sake of a good anecdote.

Like now.

cosmictanya wrote:Basil Street.

Sounds like a bloke who snitches on his fellow cons in the clink.


Basil the Babble.

cosmictanya wrote:Yes, that's nice. You'd feel like life stretched before you with a view like that.

Perhaps, but it's looking South, away from the infamous Reeperbahn and the docks.

That aspect of the city (second largest port city in Europe after Rotterdam) might interest you at a street level more.

Something something Herbertstraße.

Nightjar wrote:It's a little known fact that Hamburg is the most wealthy city in Germany and one one of the richest in the world.

My, then-girlfriend's arschloch Dad ("Smurf Song", "Yes Sir I Can Boogie" etc) used to conspicuously brag about it to me whenever I was there.

More millionaires-per-capita etc etc...

He'd also bang on about how the big hotel on the Binnen was one of the top hotels in world according to Michelin or Zagat or some such crap.

Not to mention the snuggle rumpusing Star Club and all that other backside torpedo I've also been clattering on about ever since for the sake of a good anecdote.

Like now.

He sounds like hard work. Did you ever say 'oh god, just stop it' and walk off? I find that to be a good way to deflate his kind of tumescence.

Nightjar wrote:

cosmictanya wrote:Yes, that's nice. You'd feel like life stretched before you with a view like that.

Perhaps, but it's looking South, away from the infamous Reeperbahn and the docks.

That aspect of the city (second largest port city in Europe after Rotterdam) might interest you at a street level more.

You wouldn't want to look onto the Reeperbahn itself? You're not living at street level. Living directly facing onto anything that could be described as interesting is overrated.

Why is there a metal block gate across the street? I wouldn't like that.

No chance.

I was 19, was going out with his favourite daughter and was staying in his enormous house on the Hochallee.

He was an overbearing, pompous git, with an entire career in the music industry.

Most of it completely, embarrassingly shite, but some of it - specifically as a result of his wife and her career - genuinely, culturally significant.

I have my personal credentials - albeit indirect and a bit circumstantial - and he knew it, so wanted to shut me down.

Proper wanker.

Rabid Zionist too.

Nightjar wrote:No chance.

I was 19, was going out with his favourite daughter and was staying in his enormous house on the Hochallee.

He was an overbearing, pompous git, with an entire career in the music industry.

Most of it completely, embarrassingly shite, but some of it - specifically as a result of his wife and her career - genuinely, culturally significant.

I have my personal credentials - albeit indirect and a bit circumstantial - and he knew it, so wanted to shut me down.

Proper wanker.

Rabid Zionist too.

I suppose at that time/era, you could've declared yourself to be a 'massive fan of Gaza' to see his face, and then added 'the footballer, the footballer' if he looked on the verge of throwing you out.