'Eighteen cushions in this room. That is grounds for divorce'

The Herald Scotland

27-05-2025

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It takes a lot to leave Banjo Beale gobsmacked. The genial SHOTY judge has the laid-back temperament typical of his Australian homeland, yet nothing had prepared him for this.
'Eighteen cushions in this room. That is grounds for divorce,' he said sternly. Except he had missed a couple, taking the grand total to 20. From last week's cushion drought in Skye we had arrived at a pillow tsunami in Peebles.
'Someone really takes their cushions seriously, don't they?' asked Banjo.
But can you have too many cushions on a bed? Discuss. Heatedly.
This was the penultimate show before the final, and the South duly pulled out all the stops with some terrific homes, including a Victorian semi-detached near Dalbeattie that, whisper it, looked like it could be the series winner.
Before that, however, the judges called at the Artful Townhouse in Dumfries.
'Georgian maisonette anybody?' asked Banjo.
'You're so clever,' said Anna.
Danny, the qualified architect of the trio, was straight in there, pointing out the Georgian fan light, the authentic plaster, a magnificent cupola, and the long twisty bannister. He was less than keen, however, on the under-lit kitchen.
'I'm not sure I could see what I'm cooking in here.'
Anna was on hand with advice.
'Well, you just light a candelabra darling, when you want to dice your carrots.' Sure enough there was such a thing to hand on the worktop. Not quite Liberace standards, but it would do.
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The bathroom, described by owner Fiona as her 'therapy room', drew gasps of approval from all three judges. Banjo imagined the place as party central, the huge bath filled with ice cubes and bottles of Champagne. 'It might just be the best bathroom I've ever seen.'
With the Artful Townhouse walls covered in paintings and objets on every surface, Danny was finding the clash of styles 'a little bit jarring'. Or as we non-architects would say, it was doing his nut in.
Fortunately, the dining room had only one painting, leaving the walls clear for paper. Not just any wallpaper, mind you. Even Anna, who loves a loud pattern, described the swirls of blue as 'quite excitable'.
Had there been more stuff in this room, said Danny, his head might have 'exploded'. Not that anyone would have noticed with that wallpaper.
Craigmount, a Victorian semi near Dalbeattie (Image: PHOTOGRAPHER: IWC Media)
Next was Craigmount, a Victorian semi-detached near Dalbeattie, home to Ozzy, Laura, daughter Grace and Ethel the pug.
Gran had been a fan of the programme and would have been delighted at the house getting on the show, said Grace.
The judges returned the compliment, and then some. They loved everything, the wrap-around extension, the woven rug upholstery ('I've never seen it in the flesh before,' said Anna), the colourful kitchen, the charming first floor terrace, and the showstopping bathroom complete with a real copper bath.
'That bath is just a stage,' said Banjo. 'I would sing in there, eat my charcuterie board … it's perfect.' (Don't try that charcuterie board thing at home, kids: one spillage and you'll be fishing salami out of the plughole for eternity.)
'Ah, let's just stay here,' said Anna, and so chorused all of us at home.
The Coachhouse near Peebles had the unenviable job of following Craigmount, and for a long time it put up a noble fight. Everyone loved the meticulously restored exterior and Anna liked the luxury hotel style interior, but then came Pillowgate and a high-gloss black kitchen that Anna thought impractical.
Scoring perfect tens all round, the winner was inevitable. But does Craigmount have what it takes to lift the grand prize in next week's final?
Not so fast with those assumptions. A wise contractor once told me that anything major to do with property was like childbirth. Everybody says never again, but mostly they do. The same amnesia applies to the SHOTY final. Everyone thinks they've spotted the winner but then they are reminded of winners from previous heats.
Let the final battle commence.