<h2> <SPAN name="article04"></SPAN> Fixtures and Fittings </h2>
<p>There was once a young man who decided to be a
poodle-clipper. He felt that he had a natural bent for it,
and he had been told that a fashionable poodle-clipper could
charge his own price for his services. But his father urged
him to seek another profession. “It is an uncertain
life, poodle-clipping,” he said, “To begin with,
very few people keep poodles at all. Of these few, only a
small proportion wants its poodles clipped. And, of this
small proportion, a still smaller proportion is likely to
want its poodles clipped by <i>you</i>.” So the young
man decided to be a hair-dresser instead.</p>
<p>I thought of this story the other day when I was bargaining
with a house-agent about “fixtures,” and I
decided that no son of mine should become a curtain-pole
manufacturer. I suppose that the price of a curtain-rod (pole
or perch) is only a few shillings, and, once made, it remains
in a house for ever. Tenants come and go, new landlords buy
and sell, but the old brass rod stays firm at the top of the
window, supporting curtain after curtain. How many new sets
are made in a year? No more, it would seem, than the number
of new houses built. Far better, then to manufacture an
individual possession like a tooth-brush, which has the
additional advantage of wearing out every few months.</p>
<p>But from the consumer’s point of view, a curtain-rod is
a pleasant thing. He has the satisfaction of feeling that,
having once bought it, he has bought it for the rest of his
life. He may change his house and with it his Fixtures, but
there is no loss on the brass part of the transaction,
however much there may be on the bricks and mortar. What he
pays out with one hand, he takes in with the other. Nor is
his property subject to the ordinary mischances of life.
There was an historic character who “lost the big
drum,” but he would become even more historic who had
lost a curtain-rod, and neither parlour-maid nor cat is ever
likely to wear a guilty conscience over the breaking of one.</p>
<p>I have not yet discovered, in spite of my recent familiarity
with house-agents, the difference between a fixture and a
fitting. It is possible that neither word has any virtue
without the other, as is the case with “spick”
and “span.” One has to be both; however dapper,
one would never be described as a span gentleman. In the same
way it may be that a curtain-rod or an electric light is
never just a fixture or a fitting, but always “included
in the fixtures and fittings.” Then there is a
distinction, apparently, between a “landlord’s
fixture” and a “tenant’s fixture,”
which is rather subtle. A fire-dog is a landlord’s
fixture; so is a door-plate. If you buy a house you get the
fire-dogs and the door-plates thrown in, which seems
unnecessarily generous. I can understand the landlord
deciding to throw in the walls and the roof, because he
couldn’t do much with them if you refused to take them,
but it is a mystery why he should include a door-plate, which
can easily be removed and sold to somebody else. And if a
door-plate, why not a curtain-rod? A curtain-rod is a
necessity to the incoming tenant; a door-plate is merely a
luxury for the grubby- fingered to help them to keep the
paint clean. One might be expected to bring one’s own
door-plate with one, according to the size of one’s
hand.</p>
<p>For the whole idea of a fixture or fitting can only be that
it is something about which there can be no individual taste.
We furnish a house according to our own private fancy; the
“fixtures” are the furnishings in regard to which
we are prepared to accept the general fancy. The other
man’s curtain-rod, though easily detachable and able to
fit a hundred other windows, is a fixture; his
carpet-as-planned (to use the delightful language of the
house-agent), though securely nailed down and the wrong size
for any other room but this, is not a fixture. Upon some such
reasoning the first authorized schedule of fixtures and
fittings must have been made out.</p>
<p>It seems a pity that it has not been extended. There are
other things than curtain-rods and electric-light bulbs which
might be left behind in the old house and picked up again in
the new. The silver cigarette-box, which we have all had as a
birthday or wedding present, might safely be handed over to
the incoming tenant, in the certainty that another just like
it will be waiting for us in our next house. True, it will
have different initials on it, but that will only make it the
more interesting, our own having become fatiguing to us by
this time. Possibly this sort of thing has already been done
in an unofficial way among neighbors. By mutual agreement
they leave their aspidistras and their “Maiden’s
Prayer” behind them. It saves trouble and expense in
the moving, which is an important thing in these days, and
there would always be the hope that the next aspidistra might
be on the eve of flowering or laying eggs, or whatever it is
that its owner expects from it.</p>
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