Even the most awesome of houses isn’t always a home

In a world of so-called property porn, it seems that every television channel out there now offers its own version of what we can collectively call the Home of the Year.

In essence, it’s a competition where designers and spoofers gather to look around other people’s properties and proclaim who has the best one.

It might be Channel 4’s Kevin McCloud sagely nodding in approval at the use of space and light from the mezzanine of the home reclaimed from recycled plastic – or our own domestic version where the three ‘experts’ offer no greater architectural insight than the fact that everything is ‘lovely’ and ‘gorgeous’.

There’s even an Aussie version of Kevin who has the same natural ability to look at you, or through you, with the clear implication that you haven’t a clue – only he’s got the added ‘Bruce’ factor to suggest he could shove RSJs into the ceiling with his bare hands.

The Home of the Year offering, in any of its guises, throws up everything from reclaimed castles to pristine new palaces; houses built into the side of a mountain or high in the treetops of an Amazon forest.

All fantastic and fabulous and breathtaking to look at, but there’s one overriding connection between all of those properties – not one of them has ever borne even a passing resemblance to a home.

Nowhere will you see a child’s handprint on the wall going up the stairs; no frayed carpet, because of the thousands who’ve wiped their feet coming in the door; no beer glass or tea cup rings on the table to recall great nights of food and conviviality.

No coffee stains on the carpet, loose shelves or doors in the kitchen, no clothes pouring out of a laundry basket; no washing line out the back; no evidence of the yards of cable you need to get Sky, a DVD and a PlayStation on the one telly.

There are no weeds in the garden because work and bringing the kids to football or music got in the way; no broken bikes in the shed; leaking taps in the bathrooms; flakey paint where the cat or the dog got anxious.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.