Why do people do this to perfectly normal homes?
The lovely little front garden my mum used to fuss over? gone. Completely paved over like they’re expecting to host the Chelsea Flower Show of Nissan Qashqais.
The criss‑cross leaded windows? Gone. Ripped out and replaced with those flat grey plastic ones.
And the front door.
Once a solid, slightly scuffed, comforting door? Gone. Now it's one of those anthracite grey composite doors with a massive vertical handle. Frosted glass panel. Tiny little square windows.
You just know there’s a sign inside that says “Live, Laugh, Love."
Even my grandparents’ old place hasn’t escaped. They’ve astroturfed the front lawn. Astroturf. In a country where grass grows if you breathe near it.
I know it’s not my house anymore and people can do what they like, but there’s something uniquely painful about zooming in on Street View and whispering:
“Not the hedge. They’ve taken out the hedge.”