I'd like to move it move it

Sometimes, when Mr B is away and I'm feeling lonely, or when I need a little fantasy, I guiltily go to the website that's guaranteed to start me dreaming of the exotic, get me a little excited as I imagine another, more decadent, lifestyle. It offers photo after photo to admire, and tempting descriptions of what's on offer at prices I could never afford.

I do love Rightmove.

What did you think I was talking about?

I tell myself I'm tracking the house prices and gauging which local buyers might be most desperate to sell at the point we want to buy. And that is true - I'm ever practical. But we won't be moving any time soon, what with me being shakily self-employed and all. So what is it that's so compelling in particular about looking at house particulars?

Isn't it obvious? Well, let's choose two things.

Aspiration
This one near me has a floorplan that would cover most of my street, slightly incongruous decor, 1.4 acres and, apparently, a horse thrown into the deal. This one has (count 'em) 11 bedrooms, 7 acres and an indoor swimming pool. You can do any random search in any town and come up with examples of beautiful houses in stunning settings that one day, maybe, if you obey the capitalist imperative or win the lottery, might be yours. It's a dream, at least until you visit someone new (as I did last week) whose utility room is the size of my kitchen and their kitchen is the size of my ground floor. And next door's too. And then you wonder why you don't have that. And you conveniently forget that you haven't spent two years, as they did, living in a caravan while a barn was painstakingly converted around them. But the final result is something to aspire to. One day, you say, it will all be mine.

Descriptions
Some estate agents are straight-down-the-line - pure descriptions with no frills (although unnecessarily updating their content every couple of days - well, unnecessary if you take optimising search results out of the equation). But there are only so many ways you can describe a fitted bathroom so others let their poetic side come to the fore. Take this description of an unexceptional overpriced bungalow: "A beech tree stands sentry to welcome you in to this house in the country, a new life can begin. The land folds around you so fertile and rich, to grow your own food and enjoy this fine pitch. Standing though centuries, built between wars, High Trees is just ready and waiting to be yours." I would do a little editing on the contradictory prose if I didn't suspect it's tongue-in-cheek. This is clearly targeting the "up from London" market of vulnerable, redundant and repetent bankers taking their payouts to fund a rural idyll for a couple of years until they can't bear the Starbucks withdrawal symptoms and go back to Highgate. One estate agent in a town I know well takes the personal touch a little too far by always including an "Our view " paragraph in its descriptions. Of course, this is always a gushing view, never a "over-decorated, damp problem" view, while still not avoiding thorny questions likely to be asked by discerning buyers. Choice (unedited) examples: "It doesn't have a swimming pool or tennis court ... nothing like that... but it has got something much more important than all those things...Location". Also try: "Describing this magnificent property as simply four bedroom detached is belittling it beyond measure." It's unsophisticated stuff but it easy to warm to the enthusiasm of the writer - I'm not one for passion but I can see why she stands out from the crowd. Marketing copywriters have a lot to learn from estate agents.

Having said all that, I actually go straight for the floorplan and the photos, which I suppose is odd for a words person. But houses, like relationships, are an emotional investment, selected and rejected on the smallest whim. We saw 22 houses before seeing the one we bought. Almost all were bigger, newer, didn't back onto a car park - but we saw it and we loved it and we bought it. Of course, we're paying the price now - both literally as its value has dropped back down to what we bought it for, despite years of renovation, and metaphorically as it gets smaller every day. I am currently typing at a tiny uncomfortable desk beside Mr B's in our bedroom, wishing for a study. See what I mean about aspiration? I don't really want an 11 bedroom house - too much cleaning - but I'd settle for an extra room.

And a kitchen the size of a sports hall.