Call us starry-eyed saps, but when we learned today that J.M. Barrie’s former home is up for sale, we couldn’t help that we were filled with whimsical visions of left-behind shadows, fanciful fantasies of flights to Neverland, and an urge to occupy the place immediately. With the friendly ghost of Barrie and an inexhaustible supply of fairy dust, we’re pretty sure we’d crank out seventeen Londonist posts a day. Write our first novels. Never have a nasty thought. It’s not just a house, dammit – it’s a dream. All for a mere £6.75 million.
Gulp. £6.75 million? Is the sales tag a reflection of its posh South Kensington address, the London market, or the novelty of living in the home of a beloved children’s author, we wondered? Curious folk that we are, we did a little research. Our conclusion: We will never be able to afford to buy anywhere in London. Never. How do people manage it? Are they all investment bankers? Should we become investment bankers? Marry an investment banker? Prostitute our bodies? Sell our souls? Has it really come to this? Well? Has it?
Please pardon our momentary hysteria.
What magical features make this property worth the price? ‘[T]he bathroom sink is original, as is the dumb waiter’, notes the estate agent. All very good, but does the house come with a dog named Nana, with whom you can entrust the safekeeping of your children when you need a night out? Can one fly in the bedrooms? Also, does Johnny Depp occasionally stop by to discuss the inspiration for his Finding Neverland performance? No? Yawn. Just another overpriced home.
And yet, Peter Pan’s overpriced home. We’re left with only one solution....
Do you believe in fairies who bring houses to deserving bloggers ? Do you? Clap your hands if you believe!
Image courtesy of pietroizzo’s Flickr photostream