Housewife's choice

There are things I'm looking forward to when we move back. Even though the house we're renting has probably less square footage than our canal-side pad, we will have more rooms. Let me explain. Our current apartment has a huge living room/dining room/kitchen, a bedroom, an entrance hall that we converted into a video-game room, and a bathroom. Which means that when PJ is on the phone to the West Coast for 2 hours on a Friday evening (as he is right now), I have to cook really really quietly. Which is difficult, cos the lentil/tomato sauce keeps bubbling up and dripping water onto the hot ring. It also means I can't watch telly, although given it's just scary Patricia Arquette and her haircut of misery, that's no bad thing.

So, having a separate kitchen, living room, and home office will be lovely. As will have a second bedroom for people to stay in when they come to vist, rather than having them sleep in the front room and then having to tiptoe past them to make a cup of tea in the morning. I don't need to see my guests in a state of undress at 7.30 a.m. -- and they certainly don't need to see me before my first cup of tea of the day.

I'm also looking forward to having a "garden" -- okay, a postage-stamp-sized yard. I have a recurring fantasy of stopping work each day at 10.30 to sit outside and have a cigarette and a cup of coffee -- a bizarre fantasy given that I don't now and never have smoked. (I think it's a throwback to those 50s movies I grew up watching, when smoking looked so glamourous and healthy, something ladies did while chatting about which of their neighbours was having an affair and worrying about their daughter hanging out with the bad boy in town.) Sadly, that Doris Day-style fantasy is not the only reason I'm keen to have some outdoor space. I'm also keen to be able to put rubbish outside, rather than having to keep it in the apartment until bin day. It's rather restricting, diet-wise: We only have fish on Wednesdays or Sundays -- the days before bin day -- as otherwise the flat stinks to high heaven. But we will have outdoor bins and room for a wormery and tubs of fresh herbs and a teeny-tiny table and chairs! I will be able to leave little bits of fish out to tempt cats into the yard, thus not really violating the terms of our rental agreement.

And, finally, I'll have an airing cupboard. A real-life cupboard in the bathroom with the boiler in it and shelves for towels and sheets and duvet covers. As an avid reader of Martha Stewart's Web site and someone who can be distracted for hours by the laundry gadgets in the Lakeland catalogue, this is very appealing. The kitchen also has a tiny pantry -- not quite the walk-in chamber of my dreams, but still -- a pantry!

I am hideously domesticated. What a shame I've never wanted to have kids: I'd make a great stay-at-home mom/housewife.