Ten years ago last month, we moved in to the Highrise. From a one bedroom flat in Elwood, to a two bedroom house in East Malvern, to a three bedroom house in Glen Iris, to a two bedroom unit in Burwood, to a two bedroom house in Balalcalava, to the Highrise. We have lived here longer than we have ever lived anywhere else.
R at times mentions how nice it would be to have an outside area, apart from the balcony. Somewhere he could potter in the garden, let a dog have a run. But essentially he likes living here. I was very reticent before we bought. I was not confident in my ability to adjust to living in a flat, but we chose well.
We had half looked at apartments in high rise building over the preceding years but I was never keen. While we made our last house quite satisfactory, it really needed the back end pulled out and rebuilt. While it was a Victorian workers cottage, it had been, and there is no better word for it, bastardised over the years. There was nothing original Victorian about it, except perhaps the stumps. We had renovated every place we had been in and we just did not have the stomach to do it all again.
As soon as saw the Highrise, I loved it. It was so clean, spacious, modern and with great views. We were just so sick of old. Even before Balaclava, we had ditched our antique decoration and furniture. We moved on to our modern and contemporary period and have not looked back. I may have a fantasy for one day having an Art Deco period, but I don't think it will happen.
When I am not working, my car just sits in its parking space, unused. I don't need it unless I have to go to see family, who live in all directions of the compass. When R is not working, he doesn't use his car either. I can see no reason to own a car when we no longer work. We can easily rent one or use a Flexi Car, or taxis, should we need car transport. Trams, buses and trains suit us very well.
If you might think where we live was a wise investment, it was not. It is our home. It is not to make money. In fact the more its price rises, the more council rates we pay. I never get the glee of people when they say much the house where they live is worth. Maybe the beneficiaries in their will should be gleeful, but short of a reverse mortgage, you can't eat your bricks, concrete panels or weatherboards. (Dina and JayLa, do you know what weatherboards are?)
So ten years later, I just love living here. I suppose in a way I am lucky, but this is all I have to show for years of working a crap job which I hate about half the time. All I care about is that we can always afford to live here at our current standard. We can at this moment, hope to be able to in the future and one day it might be, I can, or R can.