Located on the edge of a town or village, ideally a short walk or drive away. Where there would be interesting places to eat and essential little shops for browsing and idling away some time. So, 1952, and the setting of a Miss Marple film then.
I like Georgian-style houses, big rooms, high ceilings, and big windows, letting in lots of light. It would have a study with French windows opening onto lawns. An ex-Rectory would be ideal.
Six bedrooms would be a good amount. Enough room to host a family or a weekend soiree. Not so vast that you lose each other and have whole wings that never get used.
I have a hankering to create themed guest rooms: Art Deco, Art Nouveau, Modern Minimalism. With period furniture and the sense that someone just left the room, jewellery on the dressing table, a party invite from 1925, art on the walls, everything giving the feel and style of the time.
It would need a drawing room to receive visitors. Refined and ready to serve afternoon tea. Also, another more snug-like room, huge sofas, and a perfect TV with places for drinks and blankets and cushions and that kind of comfy scruffy. Clean but used.
I like dining rooms that can host breakfast with sunlight and air and space to hold everyone and a table groaning with the best bagels in the land, honey, warm this and tasty that. Then, without effort, just a few little tweaks and it can equally be a place for a dinner party, all candlelight and polished wood and softness and the tinkle of laughter and glasses.
It should be the kind of house that always has the threat of a bottle of ice-cold champagne appearing, just because it is a Wednesday and they are important too.
I would like a garden. Huge. More like having land. Not just a lawn and a shed, but rolling lawns and maybe a small copse of trees.
If it is a dream house and therefore perfect in every way, then I would have to insist on a walled kitchen garden. With a large greenhouse and a potting shed.
Huge raised beds in front, twelve would be a good amount, with crunchy gravel paths connecting everything and huge swathes of lavender surrounding everything. The beds would be packed full of salad crops, vegetables, and an array of flowers for cutting for the house.
The garden would have rose bushes galore and arches of jasmine and honeysuckle, so everywhere you went, you walked through the scent of summer.
The house would need things like a huge kitchen with a scrubbed oak table. A side door that opens into a boot room, with coats and boots and walking sticks and dog paraphernalia. It would need powerful water pressure and piping hot water day or night.
Bathrooms with huge baths and shelves of books and smart speakers so you can get all soapy with Chopin. Or clean between your toes with Harry Styles. Fluffy towels and robes. Comfort and indulgence.
It needs roaring fires and little nooks to sit and read and watch the view, do nothing. Huge candles to add mood and soft lighting of an evening. A basement with an overstuffed wine cellar.
There should be a piano and guitars around the place. I don’t play, but imagine if people could and there was nothing there. If they exist, then music can just happen. Always good.
There should be dogs lying in the sun and available for walks. At night, owls should hoot to add atmosphere.
Old stables converted into outbuildings and an office with another view to sit in and daydream and write and pay bills. Somewhere you can hide away and be busy and leave mid-afternoon in search of distraction.
Maybe I could add a swimming pool in the style of the building. Indoors so it could be used whatever the weather, maybe opening out onto a terrace, making summer all languid and lazy, swimming, sunbathing, and snoozing without the effort of going anywhere.
There should probably be a restored Aston Martin DB5 in gunmetal grey parked in front of it. Tucked down the side, a muddy Land Rover, keys always in it.
Huge gates and a sweeping driveway so you can approach and admire it. The kind of house that can look cosy and warm, but also host a party that spills out and takes laughter into the air around
That is my dream house, but I’ve not really given it much thought.