Crisis At The Castle

January 17, 2014

     Last night, watching "Crisis At The Castle", my financial situation took on a new perspective.

     "Crisis At The Castle" is a three-part documentary shown on British television in 2007, about the struggles of the owners of three massive "piles" (as the British refer to their stately homes) to stave off the bankruptcy their homes are triggering.  The three homes --Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire, Burton Court in Herefordshire, and Kelburn Castle on Scotland's Ayrshire Coast-- have been hemorrhaging money for years.  The intergenerational conflicts between the owning families --parents wanting to preserve the "heritage" of the property, children wanting to make it a "going concern", are not ever going to be satisfied to the satisfaction of either.  I appreciate more the efforts that created the success of properties like "Chatsworth"and "Blenheim" (the seats of the Devonshire and Churchill families), after seeing how the documentary's subjects wrestle with each other.  "Crisis At The Castle" is essentially Downton Abbey circa 2006.

     Of course, as someone planning to sell my apartment myself, I'm subject to the small vanities the camera following the castles' proprietors reveals so mercilessly.  My description for purposes of the advertisement for sale hints at my prejudices:

 A turnkey, decoratively-painted cooperative residence for booklovers with desirable amenities in full-service Blum Brothers building.  Three built-in illuminated bookshelves, home office conveniently tucked away, European-style tiled bathroom with glass enclosure, overhead and phone shower, retractable bath shelf and overhead lighting for reading in the tub, electric towel heater.  Southern exposure in living room and bedroom, latter with “his” and “hers” closets.  Pre-war details maintained and enhanced by lead-crystal  and other chandeliers included in sale, along with two air-conditioners.  Common areas fully restored to period style.  24-hour laundry room and gym (modest fee); storage unit comes with the apartment. 

     "Decoratively painted" --perhaps that hints at weird murals?  "[R]eading in the tub" --who does that anymore?  "[H]is and hers" closets" --could that designation offend a same-sex couple?  "[L]ead crystal and other chandeliers" --shades of Liberace?  And who would want my air conditioners?

     Unlike the castles' owners, I don't have to consult with anyone about how I'll sell, which is one relief.  Once I've sold my co-op, I also won't have to be thinking about the next urgent repair I'll have to make to the property --unlike Kelburns' owners, who have to sell off pieces of land to pay to shore up ever-decaying castle infrastructure.  And wherever in New York I live next, I won't be thinking about whether I'll be assessed for capital  projects, like the replacement of the building's burner, which used to heat the building with an environmentally-unfriendly grade of oil, and is now being replaced with an oil and gas burning hybrid.  I also won't have to think about the financial impact on the building of  Local Law 11, the City regulation requiring the facades of buildings over six stories to be inspected by an engineer after five years, and all required work done within three.

     "Why?" you might ask.  "I'll be renting", is my answer.  I'm tired of crises, and castles.