Our house is old. Probably not old by England standards, or France standards, or anything other than North American standards, but old here. We don't know exactly when it was built, but researching it is on my "what to do when I retire" list. It is definitely more than 118 years old.
Yes, old homes can be charming. However, I just got done trying to treat mold around the windows and crawling up the outside walls on the upstairs landing. My basement is unfinished and a spider's dream. Some spots in the house have been renovated (by husband) but there are other parts where more insulation is needed, and we really need new eavestroughs, and it's hard to heat because the hot air doesn't flow well into individual rooms, and I'm pretty sure there are wasp nests in the wall behind the upstairs bathroom where they come in between the bricks and the soffits. The list goes on and on.
Sometimes I dream of moving into a newly built, small house with enough closet space in each bedroom and doors that shut properly and a finished basement. Then I remind myself of how much work would need to be done in order to sell this place. Then I have a small cry.