Moving house

I lost track of how many times I moved house in my life. I estimate it to be more than twenty, once every three years on the average. Still, this time while we are in the process of moving from Princethorpe to Aston, there is a huge difference.

In the past I just moved from one furnished house to another being appreciative of what my fellow MSCs had prepared for me. I just moved my personal belongings and that was all. The frequent moves helped not to collect too many of them.

This time we ourselves have to furnish our house and for each piece of furniture I am asked: what do you want? Do you feel comfortable with this? What do you prefer? The questions force me to consider a range of product possibilities which I had the good fortune not to be bothered about before. Until now I had been spared the multitude of choices that modern capitalism offers to its consumers.

Of course, this is prosperity, the luxury of choice. wealth exhibited in many types of materials, shapes and colours. But for me it is simply overwhelming, confusing and it makes me long for a simpler age, where freedom of choice was limited and all that you expected were one or two alternatives. You did not feel any the poorer for it, because you had no idea about the subsequent explosion of possibilities.

This blissful ignorance is no longer with me. Times have changed and a nostalgic looking back at the past will not do. Yet, I cannot feel grateful either for everything that our consumer society has on offer. It is simply too much and no amount of advertising has as yet been able to convince me to the contrary.

Ton