LIVING IN LITTLE

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 88, 8 January 1935, Page 5

LIVING IN LITTLE

In Praise of Flats There is an abstract virtue associated with the word “little” that bears no relation to facts, says a writer in the “Manchester Guardian.” We no longer say, “That’s a nice little hat,” oddly enough because all hats are small and many, of them still to the point of absurdity ; but we still say, “What a nice little room,” though it is gigantic compared with that of a modern “semi,” and “A splendid little wife Milly has made,” though she may tower head and shoulders taller than her husband and usl. Used in that sense it is a term of endearment rather than a statement of fact. Some peculiar inversion of thought, some subconscious false logic, seems to trick us into it. Things that are little are almost without exception charming, delightful, lovable, our reasoning seeinsl to run—overlooking mice, cockroaches, peevish children, and a few; other small objectionables—therefore that which is charming, delightful, lovable may well be described as little. We have recently removed from what appreciative visitors described as “a lovely little house” with “a beautiful little garden” to what hasl already been described as “a jolly little flat.” The reason we left .the house was the large size of it and its “little” garden, for both made loud calls on the household labour account; the reason we came to a flat was to find a small, compact home—to live in little. It is not really surprisling that we were somewhat confused by the word “little.” As a word, it seems just meaningless, but not as eerie as the word “wizard” when the smart young thing tried to express her appreciation of the new home. We are confused no longer. We have discovered the joy of living in little, and, rightly or wrongly, false logic or true, we should be inclined ourselves to use the word as an expression of the highest possible appreciation, but we fear we may meet some day in “Fowler” a caustic comment on the us'e of the word “little” like that on the words “respective” and “respectively.” The wrong use of the word “little” is a widespread and depraved taste, too, but we can understand it. Warned Off. We were warned by well-meaning friends that there was all the difference in the world between a roomy house built in the immediate pre-war days and a six-roomed' flat on the first floor. We were told how we should miss the garden, for a garden that is common ground for half a dozen flats cannot be intimate and personal, especially when tenants have neither an active nor a sleeping partnership in its management. It was ruled as firmly as if the ruling were that of the High Court of Appeal that a flat was no place for a child; a flat would be like a prison and the constant need of respecting the occupants of the other flats would make impossible the noisiness which appears to be a child’s birthright in these enlightened days. So many and various were the reasons adduced against our project of living in little that a procession’ bedecked with black crepe might reasonably have followed our removal van to the new address.. We have certainly found a great difference between the roomy house and the six-roomed flat. We wanted to do so. It is because there is a difference that we like it. We like the pleasurable sense of triumph that comes of managing to store away out of sight all the things that one likes out of sight, like step-ladders and vacuum cleaner, brashes, and spare jam pots. We like the relief from the social problems in little that arise out of employing domestic servants, that subtle consciousness of an undercurrent of conflict even between the most liberal mistress and the most conservative maid. Window Box Garden. Far from losing the intimate and personal elements of a garden, we have gained. Our garden has shrunk'from something more than half an acre to something less than 25 square feet in the window-boxes that are to stand in front of the six windows. How intimate and personal window-box gardening can be we are just beginning to discover as we plan out our “garden” for the year. It is mainly pure theory yet, but from snowdrops and aconities to crocuses, daffodils, and tulips, from wallflowers to fuchsias, and so on to geraniums, the possibilities seem unbelievable to one who has hitherto thought in terms of half an acre. As for the flat being a prison for a child, there are no signs of it. If he is in prison he thinks he is in most interesting company, for the occupants of the other flats are a source of unflagging interest to him, and he responds to the necessity of considering them in a way that suggests the makings of a sense of other people, which, as individuals and .still more as communities, our civilisation so seriously lacks. If living in flats widens our appreciation of the fact that we are part of a community with interests in common as much as living in a fairly large house in the middle of a fairly large garden can narrow it, then living in little has a virtue that, our well-meaning and mourning friends cannot, perhaps, realise.