Bypass Cottage

Inspired by a building a short drive from my home.


Ever since she was a young girl, she had dreamt of living in a cottage. She wasn’t too particular about the exact appearance, but a few things were non-negotiable; a large, sweeping garden that hugged two sides of the exterior of the building. A wooden gate, wider than it was high. A drive gravelled in such a way as to make that satisfying crunching noise as people drove or walked up it. Inside the building she didn’t mind if there were one or two floors; what mattered instead were a few little touches that in her mind said ‘cottage’: one of those laundry drying racks that were suspended from a kitchen ceiling and could be lowered down by turning a black handle in the corner. A utility room with unpainted stone. An Aga.

If these things were there – or had the potential to be there after some work – then her dreams would have been fulfilled. It was these thoughts that were in the forefront of her mind as she undertook the laborious process of looking for a place. She wasn’t going to settle for just a place to live – she wanted a place that spoke to her of home - and home, in her mind, was just such a cottage as she had pictured all these years.

She had never really sought to live out dreams; not since the marriage fell apart anyway. That whole affair – an appropriate choice of words, on reflection – was such a predictable let down, such a painful crushing of dreams, which resulted in her determining never to allow the possibility of disappointment again. Don’t expect too much, and you don’t get let down.

That mood lasted for three years. The divorce had taken longer than it needed to come through, hardening her cynicism. But money and the gentle passage of time since had a funny way of dulling the sharp edge, so it was when she one day sat down with her accounts and realised that she could finally afford to move that her thoughts turned to the cottages of her dreams.

The first two she looked at had proved to be nearly perfect but either too far from work, friends or her maximum spend. The third was also nearly perfect and ideal in value – but she was beaten to it by a lawyer. The fourth didn’t have everything, but it certainly had potential to be just about everything. So when the offer was accepted, the contract signed and the keys handed over, then the champagne could flow.

Names had never meant much to her, and she always liked to think of herself as something of a maverick; so she took it as something of a complement when friends told her it wasn’t quite what they expected. Yes, the area was a noisier one than many cottages were found in. Yes, parking would be an issue when they came to visit.

But it didn’t matter. The cottage was named for the road it was on; and to her, Bypass Cottage was just perfect.