Actually I really feel for Damien Hirst, he’s only doing what everyone wants to do. I don’t know if you’ve tried finding a decent central London house that already has a swimming pool, cinema, gym and spa area with a sprung dance floor, plus a meditation room, bike storage, bowling alley, music and vinyl zone, garage and a couple of extra rooms for staff? No, there’s no daylight, obviously, you’re talking 50 feet underground, but you’d be amazed how many cultures don’t really care about that. And when you think Hirst needs an art gallery as well, it’s so mean of the neighbours – they’ll all benefit when they come to sell, now he’s got permission. And of course they never thank you for keeping your cars underground, instead of out on the street. They’re too jealous, I suppose.
Well of course you feel sorry for the neighbours, a bit, but it’s only two or three years of disruption, and when people are faced with a stark choice, dig a basement or wait for a grade I- or II-listed house that’s big enough somewhere in, I don’t know, zone two, what are they meant to do? And of course nobody ever talks about the stress of being hated by everyone in your entire street. Digging a basement takes real courage, even if you give everyone a bottle of wine – and ours was minute, just a standard pool-cum-spa with walk-in wine cellar that we’ve already outgrown by the way.
Now I really regret we didn’t do a golf drive, like Ricky Gervais, so we’re going down another floor to make space for bespoke nail varnish storage and a dedicated selfie room. Just bear in mind you can’t spend too much time down there, because of vitamin D. This time we’re leaving the country until it’s over, let our lovely architect deal with the carnage. At least architects understand us, honestly, if it was up to the haters there’d barely be a practice left in London. And whoever’s in charge of planning at Westminster definitely deserves a medal.
