A SIMPLE LIFE

Minimalism may not appeal to all, but it doesn’t hurt to tidy up once in a while, says Fiona Armstrong

Fiona Armstrong finds the joy of minimalism

‘Women and cats may do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.’ The quote comes from an American writer. Robert Heinlein lived through much of the last century and, as with Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke, his specialism was science-fiction.

During his lifetime Heinlein published 32 novels and dozens of short stories. He was certainly driven and he seems to have been an eccentric. But then you would have to be quirky to write about starship troopers and machines that predict how long people will live.

Heinlich was a great traveller – which helps explain the tales of far-flung galaxies. He was also something of an inventor, imagining computers and mobile phones long before they came on the scene.

Then in the 1950s he built his wife a home centred around a minimum of maintenance and housework. His ‘House to Make Life Easy’ was so simple in its design the whole thing could be cleaned in an hour.

The thing was, that everything was built-in: bed, sofa, chairs, even the waste baskets. There was no taking out the trash; rubbish simply went through a slot in the kitchen wall and fell into a bin outside. There was no carrying dishes to and from the dining

“The Armstrong MacGregor abode is certainly not minimalist – all those books

room; the dining table came on wheels and was just pushed through into the kitchen. All the sockets were waist high, which meant no-one got a bad back bending down to switch off appliances. Importantly, there were no fancy furnishings, which presumably made moving house a doddle.

It was all rather functional. And whilst it sounds soulless, it no doubt made life easier for Mrs Heinlein.

There are times that I, too, wish for a more practical house. The Armstrong MacGregor abode is certainly not minimalist. All those books. All those clan artefacts. All those historical bits and pieces that sit there waiting to be dusted.

Then there is the garden. Which, in truth, we are trying to simplify. Over the years parts have grown wild and this year the chief has decided that the dead wood must be removed.

And so an arboriculturist arrives at vast expense to assess the situation. His first patient is an ancient specimen to the side of the house. It has been there forever, but we have never seen it with leaves on.

Anyhow, our tree surgeon shakes his head and declares the case incurable. To prove the point, he makes a cut in the base and gallons of water pour out. The thing is hollow. It is rotten to the core. And must be brought down before it comes down on its own.

So now another cut is made. And then it does come down. Suddenly and unexpectedly. With a great thud the vast trunk falls to the ground. Luckily not on a human or a dog. But right on top of the nearby rhododendron bushes.

There is a shocked silence. Then we realise that, actually, something good has happened.

You see the rhodies in question are the common purple ones, the ‘ponticum’ variety, the ones that block out the sun, smother other plants and are dangerous if eaten by animals. These plants grow out of control. The chief has been promising to cut them back, but has never quite found the time.

I, meanwhile, have been dithering over whether to take them out completely. And now they are all squashed and broken we have a real reason to get rid of them.

As they say, ‘it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.’ Well, we started with a quote, we may as well end with one…