If My House Was A Man


Hear that funny noise? That’s the sound of my disgruntlement.

Hell yeah, I’m in a grump. I’m in a grump because I live in grumpyville and ate grumpybix for breakfast. See the thing is this: I have got to go out two nights on the run. And have a lovely little someone stay over Saturday night and go for a meal on Sunday day and quite frankly I can’t see the woods for all the busy busy socialising I have to do and those who know me well, know that me and socializing don’t get on until I’ve forced a bottle of red wine down my rapidly ageing neck and then I’m the life and nonsense talking soul of the party.

Who said going out was the new staying in? Having to do it two nights on the run should be against the law don’t you know.

So yes. I have to go out. I have to stop kissing my new lovely wallpaper, and that stack of delicious new books, pack my child off to his Daddys and climb into glad rags I don’t own because unlike me, Richard has a life he will insist on sharing and this is one of the downsides of loving someone years younger than yourself because youth prevents yellow scabs forming on his skin if he has to be out in high heels after dark more than once in a blue moon.

It should be becoming clear that I love my house more than I should. If my house was a man he wouldn’t be Brad Pitt. Or George Clooney. He wouldn’t even be Bob from Emmerdale: all cheery smiles and mad statements. No. In my mad head my house wouldn’t be a Bob, because my love for it is darker, more brooding than that. It might be all antiques roses and polka dots on the surface, but underneath it is tumultuous nights and intellectual breeding ground. Sexy and shabby and ok, just a teeny bit dirty.  My house is A.A. Gill and Russell Brand and maybe even a little Jeremy Paxman. With Sean Connerys’ voice. And there’s the rub: there isn’t a woman on the planet who would want to go trolling around the lovely streets of Liverpool when she could be lying in bed listening to Sean Connery whispering sweet nothings in her ear now is there?

That’s how much I love my house. Like I said: more than I should.

But tonight I have to untie my apron strings regardless and go to an album launch. I know. Get me. An album launch. Since when did I do anything as cool as that? Because trust me this is kinda cool: 10 Reasons to Live are a home-grown Liverpool band on the verge of certain stardom probably because the lead singer is both a) awfully handsome and b) terribly good, and Rich  has been a long-time groupie and is now kinda friends with the band, and it wouldn’t be good form to send him off to celebrate a band he is passionate about, with his ex-girlfriend, and her girlfriend, without being in attendance.

So in attendance I shall be. Pondering why they called the band 10 Reasons To Live when I can think of three million off the top of my head (not least being laundry lined sheets and Finn’s impression of Eminem). Trying not to swoon. Or look like the kind of frizzy haired greying old lady who prefers a nice cup of tea. Or snark at unsuspecting strangers when my feet start hurting. Or worst of all, dance in an embarrassing fashion. Because trust me all of these things could happen tonight. And the man who is known as Richie to everybody but me, will die of certain shame.

Must not embarrass man who hangs Cath Kidston wallpaper and makes my heart gallop with joy. Must behave myself in company. Must keep filthy mouth firmly jammed shut. Mustn’t dance like someone else’s Nana. Mustn’t tell cool types I would rather be curled up with A.A. Gill, while Sean Connery reads me Daisy Dalrymple stories and Russell Brand blows warm air down my shivery spine.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all. Wish me luck Sweeties won’t you?

(P.S: if you have ever wondered how men from my town speak, go listen to the gorgeous lilting accents of the boys in the band. Liverpool is not The Beatles country any more.)

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11 comments on “If My House Was A Man

  1. LOVE this post, and totally identify with the need to be at home, and the madness of going out two nights in a row. I'm that way about being at home during the day as well, and have 2 days I have things to do away from home. What's up with that?!!

    And, also enjoyed hearing the band members talk. Dishy. 🙂

    • brocantehome on said:

      Aren't they just Melissa…?
      You know there is a big part of me that truly wishes I wasn't like this: there is a great big world outside our front door… and yet, and yet, and yet, adventure or handsome men be damned, home is where the heart and home seems to be where ours prefers to stay!

  2. Jeremy Paxman??? Holy Jesus woman!! must you air your guilty pleasures here!!! get yourself out and have fun,I have a whole repertoire of hangover cures should you need them tomorrow!xxx

    • brocantehome on said:

      Good morning Gena. Tis the morning after the night before. I need your too much fun cures please…

      • Oh Deary me! I have just got in from work and read this! by now you will have probably spent the day tired and headachey and I fear my advice cometh too late! the only thing to do now is have an early night with a huge glass of water,but for the next time,my best tip is,if you are capable when you arrive home after a fun filled evening,drink a pint of dioralyte,it replaces all the salts and sugars you have just depleted your body of apparently.Sounds like a good night was had then? xx

        • brocantehome on said:

          It was brilliant, and yep the hangover kicked in good and proper only to carry me through a second rather more hellish night on the tiles on Friday night!

          Hopping out to get me some dioralyte. Thank you Honey Pie!x

  3. If my house were a man it would be co-dependent relationship. The kind where I cling to him and spend way more time with him than I should. But I don't treat him as well as I should (he needs some love in the tidying department), I just cling to him because he feels safer than letting go. Geez, now that sounds awful. And really it isn't that awful. It's just that I work from home, and I read and I write and watch movies and fold laundry. And I don't see living breathing humans as much as I should. So maybe I should go to an album release party! Hope you had fun.

  4. Oh my goodness, you are so funny! I feel the same about going out and keep wondering what the fuss is all about~ why not just stay home?

  5. If my house was a man it would be Hugh Laurie. A little rough around the edges but oozing English charm. So so wrong but so so right!

    Hope you enjoyed your swanky night out =]

  6. Sasha on said:

    Oh crikey, we all need to FORCE ourselves out of our comfort zones every now and again!!! An ACTUAL album launch party too – too fab for words!!!! And who wants to behave themselves anyway???!!! Tee hee. I always manage to somehow make THE worst faux pas' wherever I go, totally without any knowledge or malice (ask me one day about the guy with the prosthetic leg……..oh dear oh dear, I still shudder…) I have become legendary, but somehow I still get taken out in public! So I'm sure Richard is proud as punch to be out with you, silly worry wort that you are! So………..how was it???? They are pretty good – what a fab voice the singer has, and he's not too ugly either! Couldn't help giggling at some of the lyrics, which may have posed a problem had it been ME trying to behave and 'play it cool Rodney' at the party……. think I may have had to explore the motivation behind the 'rubber' line with the writer of the song…..!!xx

  7. It is such a blessing to have a home that offers all the comfort you need. But, oh my, that idea about 'if your home was a man who would it be?' has had me thinking! Let's see now – mine has obviously seen quite a lot of living and now matter how grand the occasion and the effort involved, never quite scrubs up to be slick and stylish … ….. who? Bob Geldof, probably.