Danksta Downunder and his parental publishers and analogue ancestors live in a modest circa 1950s-fibro and timber cottage on a steep street in Noosa.

When the first blocks of land at Noosa Junction were subdivided nearly 50 years ago, they averaged about 175 pounds each in price (according to the real estate display ad I found in an old copy of the Nambour Chronicle held by Noosa Library).

I grew up in a fibro soldier settlement farmhouse which was a former chicken and pig run, and which had a barn with a rammed-earth floor. This was at Forestville, well and truly enmeshed in the northern suburbs of Sydney now, but still considered an out-of-town country drive back then.

That farmhouse was demolished in 1999 to make way for the extension of a petrol station and convenience store.

Yet it seems more alive and even more present in my memory now than when it stood there and housed our family for some 25 years (1957-1982).

Anyway, on the northern side of our block, new neighbours are building what I can only describe as yet another McMansion. A two-storey edifice which fills 80% of the land with besser-brick retaining walls that are thick and high enough to remind me of Cold War Berlin and what's been built across Israel and Palestine.

I've managed to have a sneak preview of the architect's equally hefty plans and drawings, which almost gave me a hernia, and which are decorated with a logo that resembles a hi-tech hieroglyph.

So since March, our daily life has been accompanied by the special effects emanating from next door. The previous house, a fairly average and nondescript 1970s suburban home, was demolished in the time it takes to play both sides of a 33rpm record - but who plays vinyl any more, besides DJs?

The new owners, who are friendly and approachable, came over last summer to introduce themselves and let us know what would be happening on the adjacent block through this year.

Watching a big new house being built next door has become a regular spectator sport at our place this year. The most exciting part of the game was when the builders accidentally nearly rolled a 12-ton bobcat into our front yard a couple of months ago.

Only the timely presence of a large gum tree standing at the front of our block prevented the driver from being pancaked into the street pavement.

That gum tree, which could do with a big hug from the labourer whose life it saved, still wears the gaping split in the bark.

Since the new house has started taking shape on the sandy slope, it seems like our place is becoming a refugee camp for increasing numbers of local creatures, especially with this crisp winter.

I'm amazed at how much more space each member of our species seems to expect to occupy, with each generation. It seems like homes, and all their rooms within and features without, are on some kind of growth hormone regime.

Spaces can be divided into their own species, according to the late great French writer Georges Perec (1936-1982)*. They can be welcoming, forbidding, accessible, impossible, secret, forbidden, straightforward, complicated, pristine, neglected, remote, connected, public, private, personal, anonymous - in short, the spaces we produce and use reveal much more about us than we would normally let loose in life.

I prefer inside spaces to be homely, cluttered, colourful, comfortable, lived-in, intimate and modest in scale - yet I insist on high ceilings because I am tall, and feel I'm being forced to be hunched and stooped under anything less than 3 metres.

As for outside spaces, I generally prefer the natural version, because much of the great outdoors has been modified and interfered with by the comings and goings of the likes of us.

What used to cost hundreds and thousands around here is now heading for the millions and beyond. While our new neighbours won't have to look down on us, literally, thanks to their retaining walls and planter boxes, I hope we will all get along as equals in this locale.

What type of space do you prefer? Do you think our homes are getting too big and complicated?

* RECOMMENDED READING: Georges Perec, Species of Spaces and Other Pieces, Penguin Modern Classics, circa 1998 (translated from articles published in French in the 1970s). This is a marvellous set of writings about the way we set up all the spaces in our lives. The title sounds like it was written by Dr Seuss!

Hamish has two MySpace websites. On one he writes about poetry, writing, music and other interests such as performing, reading, history and archaeology link to site, while the other focuses on amalgamation and other local issues link to site.