One day in the early Nineties, a trainee recruitment consultant looked down at their carpet and thought, ‘I wonder what’s under there.’ And so began a mania for exposed floorboards that has had the British professional aspirant class in a vice grip ever since.
My twenty-something upstairs neighbours are currently in this grip. Nothing will dissuade them from the notion that tatty old bare boards are fantastically chic and fancy and that they have an inalienable human right to walk upon said boards, making an unholy racket.
I simply cannot understand it. When I was growing up, bare floorboards were a matter of shame. A family’s prosperity was measured by the depth and silkiness of their shagpile. Adverts for Allied Carpets and its perpetual ‘greatest ever sale’ were ubiquitous in the part of the Midlands where I grew up. Ever more elaborate kinds of Axminster were the talk of every household.
And it didn’t stop at carpet. Although I was only three, I remember in detail the day we took up the old blue kitchen lino and laid better lino that looked like it might be tiles. When we got actual tiles my mother was as happy as if I had married into the royal family. Eventually, we got so posh we had rugs on top of carpet. I still aspire in that direction. In some parts of my flat today, there are so many layers of floor covering I worry that my head will meet the ceiling if I lay much more. If you wanted to find the floorboards you would need an archaeological team led by Tony Robinson.
I’ve gone for Italian slate in the hallways and kitchen with the living room and bedrooms carpeted in the best weave the oriental carpet showroom in New Malden can offer.
But the owner of the flat upstairs does not care for floor covering. Years ago, when I first suggested it might be better if she carpeted her bedroom, she looked at me very snootily and said, ‘Carpeting? Ugh. I don’t want carpet.’
I should have said, ‘Listening to someone have sex in a creaky iron bed? Ugh, I don’t want to listen to someone having sex in a creaky iron bed.’ But I let it go.
Eventually, the owner moved out and went to live in Australia. She let the flat and I thought I might now succeed in my quest to get carpet down. But, alas, it was not to be. Every tenant since has proclaimed themselves deeply in love with the clattery old floorboards. Nothing will shift them from their deep need to connect the soles of their feet with slightly scratchy wood, as defended in the EU charter of fundamental rights, or so it would seem.
The latest tenants are the worst yet. They come in at 1am and walk around on the boards clumsily dropping objects from a great height until at least 3am. Then they sleep for a few hours and get up at 6am and start clattering about again. They don’t seem any the worse for wear. I suppose they treat themselves regularly to whatever designer stimulants the young people favour nowadays. I, by contrast, am a wreck.
I rang the letting agent and was put through to someone called Trevor, who claimed to be the manager, despite sounding as if he had picked up the phone as he was walking past with a broom. I told Trevor I had just fallen asleep on the A3. I said I thought it best the tenants put carpet down before I caused a ten-car pile-up. Trevor said he would ring the girls and have a word. A few hours later he rang to proclaim that his diplomacy had been a great success. ‘’Ave spoken to the giiirls,’ he said very slowly, ‘and they’ll be comin’ round to say sorry this evenin’.’
‘I don’t want them to come round to say sorry this evening,’ I shouted, half-crazed from lack of sleep. ‘I want them to put carpet down.’
‘Oh,’ said Trevor, sounding crestfallen. And he went away to ring them again.
A few hours later he was back. ‘’Ave spoken to the giiiirls…’
‘Yes, yes, what?’ I snapped. ‘’Ave spoken to the giiiirls and as per regards the carpetin’ issue…’ ‘Yes? Yes?!’
‘…they say they prefer the original features.’
You’ve got to love the cheek of it. The sheer hauteur is breathtaking.
‘What do they care about original features?’ I ranted at Trevor. ‘They’re 20 years old. They’re permanently out to lunch. They wouldn’t be able to focus on original features if they wanted to.’
And, anyway, bare floorboards are not an original feature. They are a sign of something missing. They should get themselves down to Allied Carpets. I hear there’s a sale.
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