THE greatest benefit of darker nights is the chance to see into the crappy front rooms of other people and judge them.
Tom Logan of Congleton admits he loves autumn evenings: the crisp chill in the air, the crunch of fallen leaves, and the parade of bad taste and canvas wall-art exhibited by his painfully lower-middle class neighbours before they close their curtains.
He said: “Oh wow, a photo of footprints on a beach. Is that a Jesus thing, or did you come by your triteness naturally?
“Steve and Emma at number 20 have made the basic error of choosing matching furniture to make it look like they live in a nursing home. Mix plains and patterns and classic and contemporary, you vulgarians!
“And this house. Did that leather corner sofa not look as big in DFS? Does it not fit in your lounge beneath the monolith of your 98-inch TV that is in turn too big for your chimney breast? Do you walk in every night and think ‘I’ve f**ked up here’ or do you not even know?
“Ah, Nathan and Donna, a massive extension and a bare concrete floor. Run out of money? Perhaps you shouldn’t have invested in a hazy white-background family studio portrait that looks like you’re beckoning a relative into heaven.
“And who’s this prick who thinks an abstract painting lends class, rather than being the empty choice of a coward? Who’s still rocking a feature wall in two thousand and twenty cocking four? Oh. This is my house.”
