There comes a time in every Boomer Granny’s life when she must consider the ‘granny annexe’ as a viable demesne. For Sarah Ferguson, that time has come. Disgraced, broke and soon to be booted out of Royal Lodge, Fergie is reportedly considering her daughter Princess Beatrice’s Cotswold ‘cowshed’ as her next billet. And while this is not the monstrous wedding-cake mansion that is Royal Lodge, it is still apparently a des res, with neighbours in the unnamed Cotswold village claiming that the property has recently had a refurb. Fergie can no doubt expect an open-plan kitchenette in Edward Bulmer hues, a fair few Pooky lampshades and a Loaf bed in the lead-on bedroom. Perfectly suitable for a woman who once flaunted her ability to adapt to any circumstances, declaring herself ‘a chameleon adapter to any situation I am in’.
‘Granny annexe’ used to be a pejorative term. Once used by estate agents to laughingly designate the adjoining dwelling to the ‘big house’, no tour of any house with such a dwelling attached was complete without the Savills agent asking you – for laughs – whether you wanted your mother-in-law living there. We all knew the score to this little performance: the wife was expected to groan comically while the husband stuck his head round the door to see if said annexe might work either as an office or a billiards room. These days, the ‘granny annexe’ is no joke: it may be entirely necessary. Firstly to defray childcare costs or dog management snarl-ups, and most importantly to make sure that Granny has somewhere to go after she has downsized from the Old Rec to pay for the school fees.
As a granny annexe tenant, Fergie can look forward to many things. First off, she will be added to the establishment WhatsApp group to make sure that she is never out of the loop on all matters practical: cocked-up Evri deliveries, school-run emergencies, dog-sick on the landing, ‘can you pop in’ type things. This group will be busy, and Fergie needs to be up and about early to be as responsive as possible: no farting about with Oprah interviews in another time zone or fiddling around with tell-all memoirs, thank you very much. Granny needs to be available. Other features of the granny annexe tenant contract include full panopticon surveillance on each other’s every banal movement and the possibility of nuclear family feud over the alarm system. Nothing to faze Fergie in any of the above, I am sure.
But availability is really the key here. Princess Beatrice and her husband Edo Mapelli Mozzi may not expect any uptick in social status, private security or peace of mind, but what they can reasonably expect is childcare on tap. The saying may be ‘live close enough to your mother for lunch but not a cup of tea’ but that’s all over if you go down the ‘granny annexe’ route. Instead, you may look forward to closer intergenerational bonds, or what kinship academics hilariously cite as ‘the increased maintenance of loving family ties where the grandmother is seen as minister of the interior’. Fergie may not fit the bill exactly here, but given that Grandpa Andrew is brooding miles away in the Fens, she will suffice. It’s never too early in the morning to race over the lawn and ask Granny if she wants to play for an hour or so.
Observe the Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie on Instagram and you will see that they make much of their relationship with their mother, the figure they credit ‘as their guide through life’. And when could the mother and daughter bond be more important than now? On her uppers, scorned by her charities and facing impending separation from her Prince Charming, Fergie needs the warm embrace of her children and grandchildren more than ever. What better way to cement this bond than to bunk up all together in the same freehold?
As the reader may have gathered, I have some experience of the ‘granny annexe’. Adjoined to our house is a small stable which equates to a one-bedroom dwelling, approximately the size of what estate agents might call a ‘generous’ studio flat in Acton. Viewing our house for the first time, my mother took one look at it and declared it ‘a perfect little granny hobbit house’. We have never mentioned it since. As I say, there comes a time when every Boomer Granny looks down the barrel of the annexe and mentally hangs their pictures on the wall. This is also the moment when the tired geriatric millennial stares down at her filial duty and draws a blank. My advice to you Princess Beatrice? Go easy on the Pooky lampshades; American chat-show hosts will be baffled by them.
Comments