On “Escape to the Country,” British retirees looking for a secluded house in rural England will sometimes be shown a property intended to challenge their expectations. The host will take the couple out into the countryside, and they will drive up to this enormous manor house. Sighs ensue. Manor houses elicit that. But then it will become clear (though it was already) that the 400,000 pounds or whatever they can put towards a new home is not for the mansion in its entirety, but would go to an apartment in the now-subdivided manse. The apartment itself will look like an apartment. It will have a few design details specific to a historical building that was at one point intended for rich people, but it will be, at the end of the day, a 2-bedroom or whatever, without private outdoor space (let alone the acres or whatever the couple has requested) or “holiday let potential.” However grand the view from the driveway, what's left is the reality of a city-sized apartment out in the middle of nowhere, but priced as if in a desirable location on account of this being a part of a historic home.
Every time one of those homes appears, I find myself shouting (well, not shouting, toddler is by then asleep), “We’re like bats!” This is in reference to the best episode of “Keeping Up Appearances,” the one where Hyacinth and Richard settle into their country house. The house is in fact an uninhabitably small attic dwelling in, yup, a subdivided historical manor house in the English countryside. It is the only way Hyacinth can afford, or even quasi-afford, the lady of the manor status she so desires.
The tininess of the house is the source of physical comedy throughout the episode, beginning with their entry into their new home. They ascend a grand staircase, then progressively less impressive ones, getting more winded as they climb. Hyacinth insists an elevator would ruin the architecture. Richard disagrees. He points out that their home is in an attic (the obvious, but Hyacinth isn’t concerned), and makes the aforementioned bat remark.
The discomfort gradually builds up, starting with Richard and Hyacinth bumping their heads on the ceiling while in bed, and getting stuck together in the “compact kitchenette” while Richard tries to make tea. Things ramp up once guests arrive, notably with (horrible) neighbor Emmet getting his head stuck in the ceiling after standing up too quickly. The whole thing ends with a surprisingly well-attended gathering (but then again, these are some people Hyacinth has just met, who don’t know yet to avoid her) becoming dangerously overcrowded, such that no one can move, such that Hyacinth gives up on the idea that everything is fine, and asks for emergency services to be called.
The attic abode is the ultimate Hyacinth purchase: impractical but aristocratic. It’s the grand-scale version of her buying some homemade wine — the only item in her budget — at a posh country auction. Richard gives her a hard time for having expensive tastes, but she doesn’t, exactly. She stays within her means, but channels the disposable income towards things like… a “European high-fiber breakfast cereal” for Richard. (It has the seal of the Dutch royal family on it.) She’s not above faking huge purchases to impress (the luxury holiday brochures episode, or the one where she inadvertently steals a Rolls Royce she’d merely wanted Richard to ‘borrow’ to place in a conspicuous part of a parking lot), but for Hyacinth, it really is, as per the show’s title, about appearances.
But this leaves the question: Who, apart from Hyacinth, would want to buy something like this? The buyers on “Escape” never seem particularly keen. Even Hyacinth gives up on the idea; after that episode, the country house is never mentioned again.