Buffer between you and the world is the ultimate luxury

Kirsty Mcluckie on the home value of private property

Privacy is one of the most highly-prized aspects of a home.

Any rural property for sale that isn’t overlooked will trumpet the fact, and for those that can afford it, amenity land – a couple of acres and a private driveway – is not just about the space to keep a pony or grow vegetables, it is about the supreme luxury of a buffer between the owners and the outside world.

When we designed our house 12 years ago, we were mindful that the front is by a road, while the back garden is shielded from neighbour’s views by trees and bushes.

Accordingly, the main living space inside the house is at the back, so passers-by can’t peer in.

The odd lost rambler occasionally wanders through the garden, but after we set the dogs on them or fire a few warning shots with a blunderbuss they usually get the message that it is not a public right of way.

Such privacy is not a luxury which is afforded to many city properties and I’m always amazed at the residents of some very posh houses in Edinburgh’s New Town, for example, who refuse net curtains on grounds of taste, but allow slackjawed onlookers – such as me – have a good gander at what they are having for dinner or judge their decor as we walk past.

Privacy afforded by the position of your house is only useful, however, if you don’t have people constantly popping in.

Living in a village, as I do, and keeping doors unlocked during the day allows for all manner of people to be found in the house unexpectedly.

Etiquette hereabouts only requires a perfunctory knock before immediate entry and whether you think this a charming rural habit or a nuisance probably depends very much on how organised your home

is and what nefarious acts you get up to during the day.

Postal workers and delivery folk will tend to open the front door to plonk parcels in the hall, and we learned very early on that this meant ensuring the downstairs loo door, opposite the hall, is closed when in use – even if we are alone in the house.

But friends and family are a different thing.

I am pondering this, after a friend popped in last Sunday morning.

It wasn’t exactly the crack of dawn, but she has small children and at that stage in life you can forget that those whose offspring are older don’t tend to start early, particularly at the weekends.

Some of us might like to mooch about in dressing gowns, peruse of the Sunday papers and consume a leisurely bacon sandwich before mustering the energy to get dressed.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if my friend hadn’t brought her small children and her elderly parents along for the visit.

My husband, for once moving swiftly, managed to dart up the stairs as the hellos rang out in the hall.

I was not so lucky and, cornered in the kitchen, had to offer coffee and make small talk while inappropriately dressed, unbrushed and unwashed.

As a result, I think I now understand why folk may opt to live behind security gates with an intercom that can only be opened by the person in the house.

I used to think it was uncalled-for elitism, but I now realise that while politeness dictates that if you answer the buzzer you have to let the person in, that few moments of warning could allow you to at least put on some trousers, the ultimate luxury.