Colm O'Regan: Hack My Home does what I’ve often fantasised about - magicking slidey, pivoty living spaces out of thin air
Comedian and Irish Examiner columnist Colm O'Regan pictured in Cork. Picture: Denis Minihane.
The Youngest woke us this morning.
Waking us as young children often do, by opening their mouths and letting a fully formed thought, a logical argument, a stream of consciousness spill out.
It’s like a radio alarm clock with the station tuned to a particularly surreal breakfast show full of mystery-sound competitions and unusual product tie-ins.
Apparently, small children often do this odd thing where they ‘get enough sleep’ so that when they wake up they are what scientists call ‘fully awake’.
I’ll generally field this morning breakfast show brain-teaser as I’m the lighter sleeper.
When my wife falls asleep she enters a state of suspended animation that could survive an intergalactic trip to find new planets.
She could go through a wormhole and emerge later and tell you about the dream she had.
But if you wake her too suddenly, it could be dangerous. She could still be in mid-hyperspace-jump. She may reassemble wrong and end up with her ears arriving separately.
So I have to deal with the question from the Youngest which is: “When are the people going to come to this house?”
Hack My Home is the latest home show to come into our house and remind us how poor our storage is.
She’s obviously been considering the mess on the floor in their room and then stumbling over the mess in our room (clothes discarded in a rush in our frenzy to get into bed and have a read.)
The premise of is similar to many others of the genre. People with a good back story get their homes made over by a team of experts.
What I like about is that it often features Americans with small houses and not too much space.
If you watch American television you could be forgiven for thinking no one lives in a small house.
Even in TV shows where apparently they are short of money, the kitchen is still the size of a townland with a fridge like a caravan.
creates space where the owners never thought space could be.
Chiefly it’s to do with slidey things. Shelves, walls, desks, all sliding and pivoting. They do what I’ve often fantasised about doing, making some sort of use of the useless space between 7ft and 8ft above the floor.
There are hidden doors, sometimes a hitherto unused basement is used. I have actual dreams where we find a hitherto unused basement but then I wake up and the vice grips is still stored next to the tea.
At the end, there are tears and hugs and the places look fantastic. Or at least the bits we’re shown.
The designers are nice, talented, telegenic people who are good at their job and good at asking “But I don’t get it, where do YOU sleep?” at the start of the show.
does the work by speeded-up-camera and montage. A method so successful, I really don’t understand why more builders don’t adopt it.
When I think about coming to our gaff, my main worry is I’ve no idea if I’d be happy with what they did. For every slidey-turny reading nook that turns into a toilet Sani-Flo, there might be something I wouldn’t like.
But the good thing about people coming to design your home and making all the decisions? When the slidey, pivoty sofa-cum-stairs stop working at least you can’t blame yourself.
My children await them eagerly. No matter how much I tell them how lucky they are to have a home, the message is not really landing.
We were reared on “offer it up”. Our children just expect things to be fixed. They’ve given it some thought. While we were sleeping.
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