House is modern inside (this is relevant) as we had to gut it, it was in an awful state. Really dilapidated. Wanker elder son made it a hellish sale, unhappy with price. Damaged stuff, removed fittings, left debts and also a parting gift of not emptying the property but stuffing nearly everything in the loft. He vanished after lists of nasty texts, didn’t live at given address even when we tried formal routes. All I really remember was his drama. We’ve done it up totally, so that’s what I meant - no nooks and crannies with a modern interior, all new kitchen units and floor etc. The house isn’t that modern, 1930s. We’ve sorted it all, but ran out of steam on a lot of loft junk as there was so much, broken TVs and lamps even -so hard to get into even with glass and sharp bits. We gave up chasing him as I had a newborn, dh a new job and the stress was huge.
We knew dad was also not nice from local stories, had to be clear I was no relative moving in at the local corner shop even (he did stuff like hang Union Jacks out the front and call out abuse)
Ive been trying to get on with sorting the junk a bit, also have left the loft hatch open to cool the house at night. At some point this page has fallen on the stairs. DH has picked it up and just gone to bin it, but left it on the side. When he saw it he remembered picking up a piece of paper and hadn’t seen it as a note. In the loft I’ve found a few notepads of this type, different handwriting but loads of missing pages in some and most aren’t filled in much.
I caught neighbour gardening today and asked her about previous owners. A lot of face pulling and looks. She referred to her as ‘that more woman with the illness’, couldn’t be pressed on as to what it was. Was making expressions like I’d twig, but I didn’t. She quite old and tends to talk on her focus! Kathleen has a younger son David too, said he stayed there.
What got me, she then said how ‘those boys sold straight away. Onto the market before she was cold. Money. Money.’ Said she didn’t go out after her husband died, and hardly before that. ‘Kept herself to herself’.This house was not habitable. The boiler was not working and clearly hadn’t for some time. The bath was cracked through and just ran into the kitchen if the taps turned on, there was nowhere to wash. The floorboards had rot in there. Stank of piss. A ceiling was down, obviously some time ago. The cigarette and mould stale smell was so bad the estate agent stood outside I remember. It was a mad buy, but in a location we couldn’t otherwise afford. But doors couldn’t be secured, a number of windows just had secondary glazing left, the slide out type. The back windows were rotten like sponge. Electrics weren’t safe and some sockets not connected at all. The garden Tbf wasn’t that bad though, mild over growing but fairly mature. It seems this poor woman, with some illness, lived in it when we had presumed it had been unoccupied for years after the father’s death. I found that really quite upsetting.
As an aside.
The garden is freaky... there are so many buried cats we’ve found. I’m sensitive...seriously. Way more cat skeletons to find planting shrubs than is sane. Maybe that got me about it