They say every choice …

… is a renunciation; that is, the path you choose shuts off other avenues and possibilities; choice is life affirming but also a series of little deaths; fondly held fantasies that, alas, can be no more.

The choice of a house is also then the renunciation of the others, both real (if sorely limited in supply and restricted by our budgetary constraints) and the recognition of the conditions that in the end mattered most to us.

We have not bought a 1957 telephone exchange in Edinburgh but it struck me as I passed noting its blown out lintels from the rusted rebar beneath that I like it was aging and shared its birth year. Time had harried it and while perhaps I am not harried the passing years have took their toll.