For years, when we drove down Colonel Talbot Road toward Lambeth, we’d look at a large, grey-sided house set back in a generous yard and oooh and ahh over it. It came to symbolize a “dream home” for us. It had an attached double-garage and looked very stately and beautiful.
A few years ago it went up for sale, so naturally we kept an eye on it. Its starting price was $849,000. Keep in mind that this is London. House prices aren’t nearly as high as in the GTA. The average price for a bungalow is about $220,000.
Over the next couple of years it changed realtors, the price dropped, and it went on and off the market. At one point it was relisted at $649,000. When it fell to $499,000 we decided to attend an open house just for fun. We dreamed about opening a B and B and living in this splendorous home.
Up close, the grey siding was starting to show its age. It had peeled in places and was fading in others. Inside was large but confusing and strange. Three separate owners with very different tastes had attached three different additions, including an indoor pool. None of it made sense. The original house was beautiful but as an example, the redone, massive kitchen counter was made out of pine. Soft, porous pine! New bedrooms were tiny and awkward, as if one half of a couple insisted on a limited amount of floor space while the other was firm on making several bedrooms out of it. Due to the weird floor plan, there was no way to create a private entrance for the longed-for B and B, or to even cordon off a private area for ourselves.
The pool room was huge but finished in wood and experiencing obvious moisture problems. A granny flat over the garage was cramped, and had four or five different types – not just colours, types – of flooring in the small space. Suddenly we saw why the property hadn’t sold. The siding pulled the whole mess together from the outside, but it couldn’t fix what was obviously unacceptable inside. Even a gazebo that the realtor kept boasting was “powered by hydro” was situated in a swamp that was environmentally sensitive wetland that couldn’t be drained. Plus, at least half a dozen new homes overlooked the back yard. It stopped being our dream home in a big hurry.
On a recent Saturday night we were startled awake by a flurry of sirens. It’s normal to occasionally hear an ambulance or a fire truck but these wailing sounds just kept coming. We knew something terrible was happening. The next morning we awoke to the news that the “dream house” had burned down. The owners were on vacation in Quebec and the place burned to the ground. The Fire Marshall said it wasn’t suspicious. Perhaps the electrical work was done to the same standards as the renovations. The owners had the site cleaned up and it just looks sad. Their boat sits off to the side of what used to be their home. Maybe it was their dream home. Now, every time I drive past it reminds me that things aren’t necessarily the way they seem from the road.
Very few things in life are what they appear to be by a quick glance.