Dear Kirstie, Please STOP wasting my life
The day before yesterday, I found myself switching on the television at 8.00pm. On Channel 4, Kirstie Allsopp was introducing a programme called The Best Of Both Worlds. The premise seemed to be that a growing number of people want to live in the country, but still have easy access to the town.
‘I’m here to say there is a happy medium — you just need to know how to look, where to look and when to compromise,’ said Kirstie (pictured). ‘And I’m going to prove it to you.’
A city headhunter called James was about to get married to Ali, a research analyst with the Metropolitan Police. They wanted to move away from their noisy road in London to somewhere quiet in the country, but within ‘a a commute’ — commute e has recently become a noun — of no more e than 90 minutes.
One soon gets s wrapped up in these things, and before long I was following James and Ali as they looked round a succession of houses in their price range of £500,000 or less.
Of course, in real life, nothing would be more tedious than trailing around after two strangers as they went house-hunting in hertfordshire. But f or s ome r eason television i s more compelling than real life. Why else are we prepared to listen to five bores spouting cliches on Question Time when, i f we spotted the very same five bores walking up our garden path, we would switch off the lights and hide behind the sofa?
The first house to which Kirstie took James and Ali was a threebedroom semi-detached house not far from Radlett, wherever Radlett i s. Kirstie l oved i t and James awarded it eight out of ten but Ali gave it only six. ‘I like it, only something doesn’t quite fit,’ she said.
Out of earshot of James and Ali, Kirstie said: ‘ Panicked would definitely be how to describe what I’m feeling right now.’ This seemed to me to be overdoing it. I thought she’d have felt a lot more panicked if they’d snapped it up on the spot, leaving her with nothing to put in the remaining 42 minutes of her programme.
By now, I had begun to sense that Ali was getting on Kirstie’s nerves. After the advertisements, Kirstie seemed to confirm this suspicion of mine by saying: ‘Ali by her own admission lacks vision, and James, though he thinks he can give her the vision, is not the one wearing the trousers.’
Kirstie then took Ali and James to the second property, a converted stable on the Mentmore estate. ‘I’m a bit thrilled with this property, I have to say,’ said Kirstie, adding: ‘It’s packed with character, which is high on their wish-list.’
Ali and James both gave it the thumbs-up, but Kirstie insisted on taking them to a third property. ‘Just because you’ve seen the house of your dreams doesn’t mean to say you don’t see other houses,’ she explained, mysteriously.
So off we set to Bourne end, to a cheaper property which had, said the excitable Kirstie, ‘a loft space crying out to be converted’. Asked for his verdict, James said he thought it was better than house number one. To be frank, by now I couldn’t even remember house number one, but we were already setting off to view house number four, so I felt I could get away with it.
The fourth house was in Wingrave. ‘It ticks a lot of boxes,’ said James. Kirstie asked him what Ali thought. ‘ The houses that really wow her are the ones that have that wow factor,’ he explained. Ali said she thought it was really cosy. They then piled into Kirstie’s car to test the time it would take to drive to L Leighton Buzzard s station. ‘ Ya a y ! Leighton Buzzard station!’ said Kirstie, on t heir arri val. I s she always so e easily pleased?
We were nearing the e end. ‘ James and Ali a are facing a genuine dilemma — a tough decision that only th they can make,’ said Kirstie, in an attempt to o ratchet up the te tension. So which was it to be, the pricey st stable conversion — or the cheaper house in Wingrave which ticked all the boxes? By now, I was on tenterhooks.
SAdLY, after a second visit to the stable conversion, Ali and James went off it, and for some reason they also went off the cheaper property with the loft. So the programme had come to an end, and they hadn’t even picked a house! They hadn’t only wasted their time, but also Kirstie’s time, and my time, and the time of every other single viewer. If I had been Kirstie, I would have slapped each of them around the face. Instead, she pretended it didn’t matter.
‘I’ve armed these two with everything they need to find their Best Of Both Worlds,’ she said, clearly seething with irritation. ‘ So I’m sure it’s just a matter of time’.
‘ But what about my life?’ I yelled at the television. ‘ how can I ever get back the hour I have just wasted?’
But answer came there none.