Dream home
Roger Bara

When we were first married, any home was considered ideal. We managed to rent a place that was newly built, and we were very grateful. 

We moved to Jersey in the Channel Islands just a few years after our marriage, where you had to earn “housing qualifications” before being able to rent anything reasonable. So again, any accommodation we could find for was ideal for us. The parameters remained low. 

After 20 years in Jersey, we became eligible to buy a property. We were both 49 years old, so any mortgage was going to be vastly expensive. It was. But our terraced house in an uninspiring part of the island was oh, so, ideal, it seemed. Except, of course, it really wasn’t. It was ours, but we had a tiny back garden, which was immediately behind a busy and noisy major road.

Eventually, we bought a two-generation property which we shared with our son and family, which was almost ideal, but we were upstairs and Mrs B was beginning to have severe mobility issues.

Deck & pool at Roger’s bungalow
Roger’s pool

We retired to the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus 12 years ago, and now live in as ideal a home as we could ever have envisaged. It’s a bungalow, (all on one floor) just a few metres from the sea, with mountains towering above us in the opposite direction. We are able to live our lives mostly outdoors, and we have a vast outside area, including a fully fitted outdoor kitchen, complete with a retractable roof, additional pizza oven, a vast array of granite worktops, even a four-poster bed by the swimming pool.   

What could make it more ideal? A heater in the pool, so we could use it all year round, and a lawn tennis court, though in reality, I have long since run out of partners to play.

What I am really saying is, compared to most of the folk on our planet, both Mrs B and I are really enjoying our ideal home. Truly blessed, and we know it. I can’t wait for my two co-writers to visit us here.

My ideal home

Our Rusuk Blog writer Sergey

Unlike my RUSUK co-authors, Dean and Roger, I still haven’t made it to live by the sea. Yet, I see my ideal home very much like this: a modest place within walking distance of the sea, a warm and sunny climate, some basic facilities, but AC included in case of heatwaves during summer days.

I plan to continue doing my work – writing and producing content – till my last breath. So, my ideal home must have a decent internet connection to be online 24/7. Maybe some Internet of Things as we dive into the future, where such features will be more and more common. I imagine how my kettle would be communicating with my washing machine…

Sergey’s dream home

It is nice to have a swimming pool, but this is not a must-have for me. I love the idea of living in a small place but being connected to the whole world outside via the internet. I live locally but think globally. You enjoy seaside outdoor activities, but at the same time, you get connected with people around the world, whether on business or personal matters. 

So, plenty of sun, blue skies, and sea surf noises day and night—that’s good enough for me! 

I understand that the odds are that the earliest I would make my dream home come true is close to my retirement years, if ever. Anyway, what are dreams for if not to come true, as a Jaguar ad said in the Financial Times back in 1993?

My ideal home

Photograph of Dean Lewis

Many years ago I used to read books by William F. Buckley about his sailing adventures. He could transport the reader to far away islands in French Polynesia… magical adventures under exotic skies. How is it possible someone so gifted in painting dreams of faraway islands could be so confused about politics? I wish those days could come back. 

He never did fall…

A single Buckley is worth ten Tucker Carlsons. He had a show on PBS (American Public Broadcasting) and he would lean way, way back in his chair. I was sure he would tip over at any possible moment but he never did. He would wax on some conservative cause or another and spoke the language using words I had never heard before. You would need a handy dictionary if you truly wanted to understand the man. He would be mortified by today’s intellectually bankrupt GOP.

So, we are talking about our dream homes and I start by telling you about a dead conservative commentator. Why? Because my ideal home would have sails and visit far-away shores. I would live aboard a sailboat. Seagulls and puffy white clouds would fill blue skies. Several days at sea would bring you to a new white sand island, with new people and a new dream. I don’t dream of dining rooms with inlaid wood tables. I’ve never lusted after fast cars or infinity pools. 

Unlike a motorboat, even a medium-sized sailboat can go anywhere in the world. When I was a child, my father owned a marina and I fell in love with the water. This will sound funny but I don’t want to swim. I don’t really like to lay in the sun and sweat. Put me on any boat, anytime and I’m happy.

I’ll not bore you with details but many boats in the 50 – 90 feet range can be handled by two or three people. These blue water capable sail boats have auto-pilots and can look after themselves for some periods at night. They have alarms if something on radar gets too close and the sails can raise and lower themselves at the push of a button.

I guess since we’re going to talk about this as a dream home, we should talk about the interior: boats in this class tend to have three or maybe four cabins. Vintage yachts will have lots of rich, darker, carved wood and newer boats feature blonde woods and are well lit. They are both beautiful. Too much wood on the exterior is a nightmare because it requires annual maintenance. No love. In the two end staterooms (fore & aft) the beds should be on the center line (less rocking). Now, the showers do leave a bit to be desired on most of these boats. Many are little more than glorified fibre-glassed lined closets. Perhaps you dream of big, jetted tubs with picture windows. Your life sucks.

We should also put that word dream in bold because my dream home is not really a house at all. That’s ok… it’s my dream.