..there are some important aspects to consider. Not that I am going to, you understand. I don't fit the criteria I'm sure. But I read a hell of a lot of these magazines and there seems to be a certain formula.(Certain exceptions such as The Vintage Magpie do apply).
First of all you need to say lots of happy things like...'We're so happy here', 'Finally we have our dream home' or 'I can't imagine living anywhere else'. Disregard the fact that this house is going up for sale very soon and the mileage from the magazine will add on a bit of worth. They never say, 'This ruddy house was so stressful we're getting divorced'.
It's important to find things. For example it's imperative to uncover victorian fireplaces behind walls, intricate spindles that were boxed in on the staircase, and there is usually an amazing original tiled floor under the carpet (which incidentally you must rip up). The quote will go something like this; 'when we ripped up the carpets we discovered a beautiful parquet floor which we lovingly restored'.
You should accept as normal; bowlfuls of lemons, limes, aubergines or oranges with their leaves still attached (since they were obviously picked that morning from your orange tree in your garden). A cafetiere is imperative and bonus points for croissants and Bonne Maman confiture! You are obviously mid meal and it's never a Domino's pizza.
Oh and you should be in your bare feet standing in your kitchen nursing your cup of coffee, or sitting in your living room reading a magazine (instead of scurrying round like a madwoman trying to hide your basket of dirty laundry.
Your TV should... well you don't have one; as all sofas face each other. We all know that nobody watches TV now, we sit opposite each other and talk.
If your children aren't cute you need to borrow someone elses. They also have no shoes, and are usually wearing something floral, unless you are a boy, in which case you will be wearing long shorts and a rather funky T-shirt. To the childrens' distress all their plastic toys will be hidden in the attic and the only things displayed will be their Elmer suitcase, a wooden dog on a stick, and a Tin Tin poster.
Beds should have at least forty-seven cushions on them, and a strategically folded throw along the bottom. There is never a toilet roll left on the bed head. That would reflect reality, and therefore be silly.
Now why do I keep buying the damn magazines?
