Be careful what you wish for in an ownerless age
THE WHOLE idea of “ownership” is an interesting one, and one which is changing quite radically in the human mind. We humans have always liked to “own” stuff – land, houses, cars, farms, flats, yachts, you name it. In fact, we pay for the right to use of those things for our lifetimes, after which somebody else “owns” them.
Even the grand castles and country manors of the British aristocracy that were passed down through generations of wealthy earls and dukes are now no longer owned by them or their families. Most of them have become such a financial burden, they have been handed over to the British National Trust and are open to the gawping public to stroll through the rooms and gardens for a fee.
All that property of the privileged rich is now merely entertainment for the common people. The First Duke would be turning in his grave if he could see little Jimmy wiping his ice cream-sticky fingers on the ancestral furniture. He would probably be even more horrified to find the ancestral library turned into a tea room.
More and more people around the world are discovering the delights of not owning a car. Think of it: You pay about R150 000 for a vehicle that costs you R1 000 a month to run and spends more than half the time parked in the garage losing value. If you invested that money and spent the interest on Uber rides, you’d have no parking costs, no maintenance, no licence fees and you would probably end up with a lot more cash in your bank account.
Uber, incidentally, is now the largest taxi company in the world and it doesn’t own a single vehicle.
Airbnb is the world’s largest hotel group now, and it doesn’t own a single room.
My lovely old house by the sea is increasingly becoming a financial burden as it gets older and needs more maintenance. Added to this, the city council is punishing me more and more severely for the privilege of living in it. Rates have increased, water bills are set to soar.
I wonder whether I would feel financially liberated if I sold the place and moved into a retirement village. No rates, no punitive water bills, no maintenance, no sewage charges. Just one monthly payment, and if the stove goes bang, I lift the phone and tell the supervisor to come and fix it. There’s none of this frustrating phoning and being told: “I can come on Tuesday,” only to spend Tuesday sitting at home waiting for a repairman who doesn’t pitch up. “Sorry, my assistant didn’t come to work because of the train strike.”
I wonder whether all those angry citizens demanding to be given land realise what a burden they are asking for.
Last Laugh
O’Flaherty was driving along a country lane when he saw a sign on Shamus’s fence saying: “Boat for sale.”
He stopped and went to the house, and when Shamus appeared, O’Flaherty said: “What’s this sign all about then? You don’t have a boat. All you have is a tractor and a trailer.”
“Dat’s right,” said Shamus, “and dey’re boat for sale.”