The Netherfield Estate

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a paltry fortune, must be in want of a country estate.

All it took were half a dozen house tours, five apartment viewings and several hours of deliberation. Finally to the real estate agent's unbridled delight ( and relief no doubt ), I've finally chosen a place of my own. Though I only undertook a one-year lease to see how the rented estate fits.

Hence the given name Netherfield.

Ramshackle old place. Far from being the perfect country seat, Netherfield estate certainly earns the unenviable designation of a fixer-upper! Horrid cherry-stained wood panellings. Tired-looking pink-tinged floor tiles. All matched with shockingly garish fuchsia flowers on the sadly faded floor-length curtains - a cherished item which the happy owner - a Mrs Elton - proudly proclaimed to be specially purchased from highly esteemed city merchants.


If she desires me to appraise her ceiling plaster again, I just might have to stab her with my inkpen.
Obviously part of the nouveau riche, our Mrs Elton couldn't quite finish reciting the manifold virtues of her far newer - and larger estate. Not that Netherfield wasn't a perfectly lovely place but she couldn't quite live in such a quiant country manor any longer. Simply intolerable! My, what would her neighbours at the club say!

Paul : My word! Quite unusual fabric for the curtains!
Mrs Elton : Pretty pretty yes? I specially choose this cloth! Not cheap I tell you.
Paul : It certainly speaks highly of your taste.
Mrs Elton : Red curtains to match the house leh. Very french looking la!
Paul : Perhaps I should paraphrase by saying that it shrieks loudly?
Mrs Elton : Also put those nice pictures of red peonies to match the floor. I've been told I have got quite the taste leh.

Certainly succeeded in going for the terrifyingly mismatched look. No doubt the splashy scarlet spectacle compelled the previous tenants to vacate in a tremendous hurry with various kitchen utensils discarded by wayside. Even found a burnished copper kettle tossed into the drain close by.

And I've only started with the living room! Can't adequately describe the acid-green cabinets in the kitchen without reaching feebly for my snuffbox.

But I persevere. Though cruelly mistreated by the previous shabby-genteel residents, Netherfield isn't entirely irredeemable with neither style nor taste. The bare bones of the structure's still pretty well enough. Definitely salvageable material. Several large airy salons that would benefit tremendously from a little tszuj. Nothing a heap of elbow grease, a little paint and a pinch of style won't cure!

Certainly a challenge for me!

First thing to do is burn those offensive curtains.