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The Best & Worst Things About Getting Older.

For me, the worst thing about getting older isn’t my constantly receding hairline (I always wanted a receding hailrine. I even used to draw a Christopher Lee widows peak on my head when I was younger); it isn’t going grey (I heard that you don’t lose hair once it greys); it isn’t even getting plump around the belly-button region (there’s always exercise!). No, for me, the worst thing about getting older, is getting boring. Christmas isn’t half as exciting. I hardly ever play kiss chase. And my childhood dream house is slowly being overshadowed by common sense, practicality and lack of money.

That is why I have decided to document the remaining memories of my childhood dreamhouse, before I forget them forever.

My childhood dream house was never a very practical one. It had all my favourite soft drinks on tap (and not those crappy pub taps, I mean cola, lemonade, tango, cream soda all coming out of a long row of kitchen taps). It had cinema screens all over the place (including in the garden), it had secret passages, secret stairways, secret gardens; a whole complex of treehouses (Ewok village style), and so much more that I’ve already forgotten. Another thing it had was a whole bunch of interconnected swimming pools. Split level rooftops would be connected by water slides, then a big chute would slip you down to a garden pool, which would also channel into an indoor pool.

Another thing I always wanted was a room completely lined with air cushioned velcro walls, so that you could go in and bounce around in a velcro suit, then hurl yourself at any wall/ceiling and stick there (would have to be done with a pull-me-down partner though). That would be fun!

And my favourite element of my childhood dream house, the only bit that I still would actually want today in a real life functioning house, is the super-duper staircase (as seen in my super-duper messy and confusing sketch). Basically, instead of just having boring stairs, you had the option of moving between the balconies of the many levels of the house. You could use slides, zip wires, tarzan ropes, fireman’s poles…

Why are none of these things incorporated into our everyday homes?! Why walk down when you can slide? Because houses are only ever designed by grown-ups, that’s why. And it’s about time things changed around here. Bring in more child architects I say! Who cares if the houses aren’t safe, or watertight, or possible? Fun is the issue here.

But unfortunately the childhood dream house is a bit of a catch 22, to allow it to slip away in the sands of time is just sad, but for an adult to ever actually own it? That’s even sadder. And weird. And a bit creepy (two words: Neverland Ranch). So I guess I’ll just have to look forward to growing old, getting my meals delivered to my door, having a bath tub with a door in the side, a bed that becomes a chair at the click of a button, and one of those super-duper chairlift things. (Getting old is beginning to sound cool!).

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