Gillian Anderson Price

Home Sweet Gnome

Late last year I had what some might call an ‘ephiphany’. After a couple of years of chat about moving house and re-locating my business I one day awoke and decided to day is the day! During the following week or two cleaned, sorted, chucked and donated all manner of superfluous ‘stuff’ (on one of my wardrobe clearing stints I managed to relinquish 18, yes 18 pairs of jeans). I then made some calls to various estate agents and financial advisors. Two weeks later I was in a blind panic to find a new retail premises and a new home. Somewhat serendipitously it was the commercial agent I had contacted to assist in finding a new retail site who had sold my Primrose Hill shop and flat, it was a smooth and quick transaction. My Retail agent could not however assist in my domestic dilemma. I made some more calls and I searched the Internet. I found a house; the vendor clearly believed he had something more special than I did. I made more calls, I sat on a beach for four days and I bought a house without viewing it. That’s correct I bought the most expensive asset most people own in their life without actually seeing it save for a couple of pictures in an email on my phone viewed while seated poolside in a bikini cocktail in hand.

Fast-forward it is late June, the builders left 5 weeks ago there are 3 pictures up on one wall, no sofa and plenty boxes still to unpack. I now await a joiner to build some cupboards; my friend met the joiner’s friend in the park while dog walking. I haven’t met the joiner; I have given vicarious instructions.

Last weekend a family friend came to visit ‘the new house’. She particularly loved the garden, probably because it is the only space that does not resemble a beautifully painted storage unit. “Gillian I love the garden” (it does actually look rather good, simple, elegant and green; newly planted sweet peas, lavender and something with purple flowers all in old terracotta pots) the family friend continues; “You need a Gnome, I am going to buy you a Gnome”. Please be advised this is a close family friend I need not stand on ceremony, I need not be overly polite: “No thank you”. “What do you mean no thank you, I’m going to send you a lovely Gnome”, me; “Really no need, No thank you. I don’t want a gnome”. Her (laughing mischievously); “ what if I just send it to you?”. Me; “well, I suppose I would just send it right back… unless it had a terrible accident, fell off the wall….”.

Obviously I have quite wonderful style and taste in home wares, garden ornamentation, fashion et al, and would never ever entertain something so gauche as a garden gnome. While out on a shop buying trip earlier this week someone slipped something in to my tea.


I call him "Terry” and for a mere £75 he can nestle in your bush, he’s not going to nestle in mine! 

(I rather love him though)

 1930s Terracotta garden Gnome  /againstmybetterjudgement

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