My childhood home

Mary from Owlhaven is hosting My Childhood Home. Memories of the homes we grew up in seem to stay fresh forever, don't they...

I grew up in a happy home. I remember when our house was built. I was 5 when we moved in, I think, and just starting school. My Dad had designed our home, and he was overseeing the building too, so most of our weekends were spent climbing over a building site. We loved that. I remember balancing on the brick walls of the foundation, and imagining the rooms which would one day make up our home. I can also clearly remember the stone chimney being built, and how we helped to place one particular triangular stone.

The great thing about my home was the huge cellar, which was above ground on one side, and below on the other, as the house was built on a hill. We had many band practices down there, and parties too. It also flooded in wet weather, as the house was built on an underground stream, until Dad had waterproofing put in!

I remember my corner room, and being allowed to decorate it as I wanted. I had a space age (for the 1960s!) light, which you pulled down to whatever height you wanted, and the room was turquoise and orange. Do not ask. I loved it. I was a bookaholic as a child, and I still am today, and Dad brought home a library style bookcase which took up the entire wall of my room.

I remember playing tennis in our driveway. I remember hitting tennis balls on the kitchen wall, trying not to hit the huge windows, and dreaming of being the next tennis star. We were one of the first families I knew to have a swimming pool built, and that was because my parents thought it would stop them from having to drive to the beach every weekend in bumper to bumper traffic. I remember that it worked. Our home became the gathering place for all our friends, and instead of driving, Dad had to BBQ for the masses. Repeatedly. People always popped in when passing.

Our home was the centre of all things good. Mum baked a lot, and sewed, and was always creating something new. And she was always there. Christmas nights were for everyone. No-one was ever actually invited... they just arrived, and sometimes there were 30+. All ages, and even after I got married, that continued. Huge buffet meals set out, and children in the pool and running about, Auntie Myra starting the carol singing in her beautiful alto voice, wrapping paper everywhere. And you know, the amazing thing is that every one of those people who used to arrive, still remember those nights as being really special.

When I went to university, I moved into residence, and every weekend, I would lead the convoy of cars back home with all my friends, and we would either lounge around the pool, do Greek dancing in the lounge (causing Dad to go down to the cellar to see if the floor could stand the stamping!) or simply relax. It was that kind of place.

I always wanted a wedding reception in the garden, and that is just what I had. 200 people on a beautiful hot March day. It was the best wedding I had ever been to, until my son got married in Switzerland, and had his reception in my sister's garden.

And my children all learned to ride their bikes in that same driveway. They also had birthday parties there. We only sold the house when my parents had to stay in the UK when my Dad got so ill. They never went home. My sister and I were there to pack it all up and ship it. Now it barely resembles the home we loved. It was modernised, and altered, and added on to and just the chimney looks the same. I can see it on Google maps.

In retrospect, it was a huge house. With a great garden. Space for everyone, and lovely high ceilings. At the time, it was simply home, and the place everyone loved being. Fires in winter, barefoot in the garden in summer, making playhouses out of sun-umbrellas with towels pegged to the sides, the stunning mountain there to see from every window, tall Christmas trees with twinkling lights, and the shrieks from the pool.

Now where on earth did I put the photos?????

PS: Blogger is refusing to put spaces in between paragraphs, and I am giving up trying to outwit it, after 7 attempts.

Not quite the day I anticipated

It rained today. I lay in bed this morning listening to it and grinned. Strike "water the allotment" off the list. That was the good part.

Heather has posted today and the news is not what anyone wanted to read. BUT miracles happen and I am a firm believer in them. This story is not over yet.

I have worked all afternoon. For school. This was not in the plans either. Plans do not suit me. I should just expect the unexpected. I had visitors today, and while I was showing them around the garden, I realised just how much work I need to do in it, and I have not started the pots or baskets yet. Or washed the furniture, or power washed the patio. The weeds have gone crazy. Then our tour happened to go through my sewing room. Cringe. Followed by a mountaineering expedition over the newly washed but unfolded and sorted washing in a heap. I was mortified. These visitors were not expected, but very welcome. What was that I once said?? (Or twice or three times) ....... People are more important than things. Yes. Right. They are indeed. But dealing with this runaway monster cannot be avoided any longer. I am going to have to sort this house. Probably between 3 and 4 in the morning.

Home again

Apparently the weather here has been great, but today is grey. No mountains in sight. We are home. The trip back was predictably exhausting with trains and busses and planes and more busses involved. Once I retrieved the car from the far distant carpark at the airport, I thought it was a simple run home. To bed. Hah! The complete idiots powers that be running the roadworks closed off the on ramp to the motorway, so off we went on a midnight "let's wander through the moonlit countryside" trip. Hunched over the steering wheel with gritted teeth. Muttering. We finally got home 1 and a half hours later than we should have. BUT wonderful friends had left milk and bread and collected the post, so we could have some coffee and then topple into bed. Bear in mind that it was 2.30am European time by then.

I should not moan. I had 4 stunning days in the most beautiful place on earth, so I should be thankful. I love travelling. But actually propelling mother and assorted heavy bags through the process, ably assisted by my son, is not a complete joy.

My post today is mundane to the extreme. I have a lot of reading to do to catch up with everyone. I have taken mother shopping for food, and done battle with the power companies to retrieve overpayments. I have caught up with friends who have also had this horrible virus. And I am completely deaf from the pilot's decision to plant his plane on the runway after a nosedive. Well, it just actually seemed as though we descended rather rapidly, and my ears are still stuck at 38 000 ft. Inconveniently. I am now in need of an ear horn. Note to any pilot fortunate enough to be flying me anywhere....I need gentle descents. Slowly gliding downwards. Drifting like a leaf in the wind. None of this " Whoah...there is the runway.... let's land. Now. " nonsense.
I suppose the fact that I only paid £3.99 (+ tax) to fly there means there could be drawbacks. (Flying back was more, so don't get too excited.)

I have suddenly realised that I have turned into my grandmother. My Mum is quiet and gentle. Granny was a trifle more intimidating. She might have stopped to have a word with "the young man driving the plane" on her way in to her seat. And listed her requirements. Heaven help anyone if it had been a woman pilot. I am rambling. Enough. I am deaf. Did I mention that LOUDLY enough?????

I have 2 more days of holiday to:

1. Clean this house
2. Scrub the floors
3. Do the washing
4. And ironing
5. Write lesson plans
6. Sort the garden
7. Read a zillion blogs
8. Work out how I managed to kill my camera completely
9. Go and look at the allotment
10. Persuade my son to do some work
11. Sort out my sewing room
12. Springclean the entire house (as opposed to just cleaning)
13. Visit friends
14. Have fun
15. Do some reading (book club is here at my place in a couple of weeks. I must buy the books too)

Personally, I think I could concentrate on the last 3 and forget the rest. And make some more coffee. Did I mention the small fact that I brought home Swiss chocolate?