Short Caption (after writing the stuff below):-
It is better to have loved than have never to have loved at all .....
The house I grew up was unremarkable - but perfect...
I lived there for nearly 16 years and even today I when I go back to my home town I make a tiny detour to see what it has grown into.. I take my eyes of the road (for a second) and sneak a look, reminisce and then look ahead and drive straight on..
Back then it was a simple semi-detached with a garage had a long long garden - well everything seems big and long when you are small and squat.
My parents kept the front very neat with an even neater privet hedge and a small wrought iron gate... I can still remember the squeak every time you opened the gate.... I swear my Mum could hear the gate go even before I lurched my way to the front door when I was a teenager..
Inside was comfortable - full of the stuff that my parents considered homely but to my sneering teenager eyes was "naff" ... I wish I could wander through there now, re-assess my prejudices and think again..
My Father hated going on holidays - so his efforts were in developing his little bit of England and his toys... we had a concrete path weaving its way down the garden were he used to take his steam engines to run around. My memories are of him stoking up the engines with meths and then leading them down the path... he enjoyed it and we watched.
When I was little he built me a Wendy House (out of old wooden pallets) - and I vividly remember that I had to eat two whole boiled potatoes if I wanted to get a split door (like a horse stable)..... I have never eaten a meal quicker than that day - and boiled potatoes - well ??
The back garden was worthy of Wimbledon or Lords - it was neat, manicured stripes - it we wanted to have a padding pool or toys out in the Summer we had to move them every two hours so that the grass would not suffer staining or sun damage - that when or sun-bathing too... move along, move along...
One year, he decided to build a pool for us - he was out there for months and months and months and months digging single-handed to make a BIG BIG hole on the ground - it was absolutely fantastic and we had many great Summers.
He spent ages lining and landscaping it but unfortunately as a teenager I was too embarrassment to admit to my friends that "we had a pool".... but not too embarrassed to swim in it !!!
My Mother was wonderful with her plating and flowers - each Easter there was a beautiful array of blue flowers, closely followed by a stunning Summer display, then Autumn ( bonfires abound) and finally Winter - when everything just slept.
Unfortunately, as my parents got older the pool was drained and made into a sunken garden, the grass was cut only when it got too long, the flower beds were seeded over and finally about 10 years ago we had to sell to fund my Mother's Care...
When I drive past now - it's not the same house - it has been extended over 50% at least - but I wonder if they will find the grave of my beloved tortoise, cat or the 25 pet mouses that I used to keep - but most importantly - have the same happy memories...
Off to find my black and white photo of the house in Suburbia where my parents built their dream.....
Place Marking and Blank space for photo as I can't remember which photo album it is in...