Sunday 2 June 2019

Back to the old house

This post has been living in my head for more than two years now. In fact, I had my first stab at writing it shortly after my Dad passed away, back in August 2016, knowing that sooner or later the time would come that I'd have to publish it. I deleted what I'd written and started from scratch several times over. For months at a time, I didn't want to look it in the eye, while all the time knowing that it was there, somewhere in the depths of my drafts folder.



The thing is, how exactly does one write about saying goodbye to the place which keeps so many memories within its walls: my childhood home? The house which has been woven into the tapestry of my childhood and adolescence, its very layout leaving a permanent imprint on my impressionable mind.

I did most of my growing up there. I ate, slept and played there. Spent hours curled up on the sofa with a book. Wasted  hours daydreaming in my bedroom. Where I hung posters of punk bands on the walls of my room when I was not-so-sweet sixteen and the future an unknown entity that both scared and excited me.



This is the place I was homesick for when I went abroad on a school trip for the first time. A safe haven to return to. Somewhere I could shed my chronic shyness and insecurity.

If you listen carefully, your ear pressed to its walls, my old bedroom still echoes with the music I listened to when I was a troubled teenager. There's still heartbreak lingering in the air from when I split up with my first boyfriend.



How does one write about all this indeed? I still haven't got a clue but the story begs to told.

Tomorrow, the house will no longer belong to us. We have closed its door for the very last time, and our memories will be the ghosts that haunt it.

As far as houses go, the old house isn't really that old. In fact, it is younger than me. My parents built it in the early 1960s, my Dad and grandfather doing most of the work single-handedly, and we - my Mum and Dad and a not quite 3-year-old me - moved into it in July 1964

It was one of the first houses to be built in a brand new street on a brand new estate where not all that long before there had been fields, meadows and the orchard our street was named after.



Whereas most of the estate's houses were fairly traditional, my parents clearly embraced the modernity of the late 1950s/early 1960s.  Our house was the only one with floor to ceiling windows at both ends of the living room. At the front, the windows were off-centre, with panels of pebble dash separating the downstairs and the upstairs windows, with a large expanse of red brick wall to their left.

There was a pebble dash awning above the front door which, being a semi-detached house, was at the side rather than at the front, and more pebble dash panels appeared in the wall next to it, which was interrupted by the odd glass brick. This is where our downstairs loo was.



Upon entering the front door, the first thing that struck you were the black and white tiled hall and immediately to the left, the stairs leading to the first floor. These were another tribute to the era, consisiting of white faux marble slabs which were cleverly built into the outside wall on one side.



The whole staircase seemed to float in mid air although, on the unsupported side, safety was provided by black iron rods in varying lengths, which acted as a banister.

Straight on was our living room, with a sitting area at the front and a dining area at the back near the kitchen.



The room had nice black and white marbled tiles, which would later, when I was in my early teens, be replaced by vile green-ish fitted carpet, which seemed the height of luxury at the time.

A suspended ceiling made from tongue and groove pine, with built-in spotlights, was added in the late 1960s, and my Dad designed some shelving for our growing collection of books, incorporating a state of the art pull-out shelf for our television.

Central heating was quite a new concept for my parents, but they even went one step further, as instead of regular radiators, our living room had heating elements sunk into the floor and covered with cast iron grilles, beneath each of the windows.


These grilles were to become the bane of our lives, as they gobbled up small things - think Barbie shoes, marbles, jigsaw pieces and Lego bricks. Luckily, the grilles could be removed, and my dad invented a clever piece of equipment for retrieving lost treasure which had ended up under the heating elements.



The living room's other outstanding feature was a large grey brick chimney breast. Allegedly these bricks were salvaged from an old barn which had been demolished near my grandparents' house. The chimney breast had a slightly protruding fireplace built from smooth, off-white stone, with an identical wood storage compartment next to it.  My favourite feature was the small panel of abstract tiles, providing a subtle element of colour in the sea of grey brick.



For the first few months after moving in, I shared my parents' bedroom, until my own bedroom next door was finally finished.

I still have fond memories of the wallpaper on the wall next to my bed, which featured kittens playing with balls of wool among houses of cards. This remained in place until in the early 1970s I insisted on having orange wallpaper. I really was a child of my time!

My father, who was a joiner, designed and made the huge built-in cupboard in my room, which incorporated a night table, a spacious wardrobe, book shelves and plenty of storage space for toys.



Understandably proud of his achievement, my Dad insisted that I posed for a photograph, while sitting on my bed. As I was happily playing in the garden at the time, I wasn't too pleased at having my game interrupted. Hence the tear stained, thundercloud face!

Our back garden had some shrubs and trees at its tapered end.



Initially, it had a swing dangling from a sturdy branch of a tree, which would later be replaced by a proper swing set, containing one single swing. Immediately in front of it was a circular sandpit, where I built sandcastles and made mud-pies. I loved messing about with the fine sand, which ultimately led to the demise of my curls.



The house itself has long ceased to be my home, as I left it for good in 1980. I didn't go home much in the first few years after I left, and it is strange to think that life at home just went on without me. My siblings, who are much younger than me, were only 9 and 11 going on twelve when I left home and, looking at photographs and film footage (my Dad had switched to a Super 8 camera at some point), it now strikes me that for most of their adolescent years, they were part of a family unit of four, with me the absent ghost sister.

After I left home, the house was redecorated several times, a new kitchen and bathroom were installed and new furniture appeared, so that it in the end, it didn't feel much like the house I grew up in anymore.


It took all those months of clearing the house, stripping it back to its bare bones, so to speak,  to rediscover and appreciate it and the countless, often poignant, memories it holds.

There's a whole Pandora's box full of them, which will forever haunt me in my dreams, from which I will wake up with tears in my eyes and a song playing over and over again in the background:

I would love to go
Back to the old house
But I never will
I never will
I never will
~The Smiths, Back to the Old House


50 comments:

  1. This could have been me writing about The Cottage. Such a bittersweet and poignant time, isn't it?
    What a lovely & stylish place you grew up in. I'm sure that with all the love etched within those walls the new owners cannot fail but to be happy in their new home.
    Love your black and white photos and of course, your choice of Smiths lyrics.
    I get to see my childhood home every day and H&D are doing such a wonderful job restoring it. I know my Mum & Dad would have loved the transformation. xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Vix. It's both a blessing and a curse that the house is at the end of a cul-de-sac, so that I'll never get to see it unless I make a special detour ... xxx

      Delete
  2. What a journey back in time, Ann! Your childhood home was/is spectacular, especially knowing your father had much to do with its construction. Those built in cabinets! And that staircase! And that ceiling! And that fireplace!!! Combined with your memories and sense of loss, I can see how it would be hard to say goodbye.

    Thank you for sharing this part of your past. I send you a warm hug from long-distance with hope it reaches you intact to provide at least some small comfort.

    HUGS,
    Sherry

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Sherry! The staircase and fireplace were and will always be my favourite features of the house. I'm so glad you appreciate them as well. xxx

      Delete
  3. Oh it's always so sad saying goodbye to a place with so many memories! It's certainly a unique house and it sounds like you had a lot of fun times there!

    We are still working on our old house to get it ready to sell but I know that it will seem like no time at all has passed before we bid farewell to the place the boys grew up in!

    Hope that you've had a great weekend! I was surprised with a weekend away, it was wonderful! :)


    Away From Blue

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Mica! It's certainly a wrench, as I lived there from age 2 to age 20. xxx

      Delete
  4. Dear Ann, you write so beautifully and powerfully here! Truly wonderful poignant text about your childhood home. I am in awe to see how modern sleek it looks - and even more so back in the 60s, I am sure.

    Thank you for sharing, dear! A writer to writer, it truly is moving. <3

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Natalia! Your kind words mean the world to me! xxx

      Delete
  5. This is such a lovely post Ann. My mum will be gone a year tomorrow. It's still really hard for me. You may remember I stayed in mums house last year until it was sold and the sale gone through, I too had to pack each and every memory. I think it was good for closure. Your dad and my dad had very similar taste in build and decoration, preferring ultra modern over classic style. I've enjoyed looking at these pictures xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Laurie! Packing up memories is never easy! xxx

      Delete
  6. Oh what a post! This reminds me of when I said goodbye to my Grandad's house back in 2015 perhaps it was? Your house was beautiful and I strongly sense you as a young child there. It's hard to give up these places. x

    ReplyDelete
  7. What a wonderful post, Ann! The house is so unique and beautiful, but it's all those memories of yourself in it that make it so meaningful of a home. I was humming that song all the way through reading it - how love to find the quote at the end!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Sheila! I knew you'd be humming the song, by the way ;-) xxx

      Delete
  8. You will never truly say goodbye to this house, you have the photographs and the memories, it will always be a part of your life that can never be taken away. You can return simply by closing your eyes and letting your mind take you there.
    Thank you for sharing, it was lovely to see your childhood home.
    xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Hazel. That's so true about closing your eyes and letting your mind take you back there. I know, as I've already experienced the same with both my grandparents' houses. Unfortunately, I hardly have any photographs of these, and the memories are fading over time. xxx

      Delete
  9. A lovely post. Your memories will stay with you for ever.

    ReplyDelete
  10. What a house your father built! I really looks like it was straight off the set of MadMen. I'd love to live in it today.

    This was beautifully written. I really enjoyed it.

    When I was a kid we moved all the time so I don't have any memories of a house like you do.

    Suzanne
    http://www.suzannecarillo.com

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Suzanne. I really love the Mad Men reference! xxx

      Delete
  11. What a wonderful post Ann. So many moments of childhood remembered. So precious and a little bit sad.
    A very huge hug Tina

    ReplyDelete
  12. The mid century modern design is amazing, what a classic. I love your photos and reminisces Ann.
    Those childhood black and white photos could easily have been mine too, they look so familiar.
    That Cure album sits in my collection, just about worn through the grooves! I love the Smiths lyrics to finish. A lovely post xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Sally! How I loved (and still love) that Cure album. It never fails to take me back to my childhood room. xxx

      Delete
  13. I think I would have liked to have met your Dad Ann, to hear about his thinking about the build of the family home.
    I can feel the emotion that has gone into your writing this post and I’m glad you managed to complete it.
    Lynn xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Lynn! I think you and my Dad would have gotten along very well indeed! xxx

      Delete
  14. What a talented man your Dad was! And how forward thinking of your mum and Dad to go the modern route...

    This was a lovely post Ann and I could feel your sadness at saying goodbye to the house. The thing about homes, though, is that although we might own and live in them sometimes for a long time; they're never really ours. They always outlast us.

    I really enjoyed seeing the old photos of the house in its heyday and oh do I remember orange as the choice for decorating colour! In the late 60s my parents decorated our living room with a black mock leather 3 piece suite, orange curtains, lampshades and cushions. We thought it was so stylish!

    Have a great week.
    xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Vronni! You're so right about houses always outlasting us. And I'm sure your parents' living room was the epitome of stylishness! xxx

      Delete
  15. Firstly, thanks for sharing such personal memories. Isn't it amazing how many memories are attached to a place, particularly our childhood places?. So moving!
    And such a modern house your Dad built!, love those typical 50-60's details, the staircase, the fireplace and those magnificent furniture!. The colorful tiles on the grey fireplace are a great original detail!
    besos

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Monica, I'm glad you love those typical 1960s details! xxx

      Delete
  16. What a beautiful post. It is hard saying goodbye to the places we formed our memories. Hopefully the new owners will appreciate all the love that went into the construction and build their own special memories.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Goody! The new owners are a young couple with two children, and I'm sure they'll be making it into a lovely family home once more! xxx

      Delete
  17. very sentimental - my dear!
    the house itself is very chic - very bauhaus - and your father was a genius with wood and saw.
    i spend my childhood in a cheap & fast-build-after-war block - a tiny 2 and a half room apartment were you got bruised when you turned around to fast - for 4 people!
    so there is no sentiment at all :-D
    hugsies! xxxxxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Beate! I certainly don't envy you your tiny 2 and a half room apartment. I loved living in our modern house! xxx

      Delete
  18. What a beautiful post, Ann! Such emotive writing and wonderful photos. What a fabulous home to grow up in! Poignant memories indeed. XXX

    ReplyDelete
  19. A lovely post Ann! I so enjoyed seeing your pictures of long ago and now of your childhood home. What a stylish place to have lived! How clever your Dad was to build it! Thank you for sharing your memories with us. XXX

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Linda! My Dad would have been chuffed to read all this, I'm sure! xxx

      Delete
  20. Très beau texte. Merci de partager des sentiments très intimes.

    ReplyDelete
  21. What an amazing house, I can't get over the fact your Dad built it. Thank you for sharing this post, I imagine it was hard to write. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Gisela, and yes, it was hard to write. I admit I've cried a lot while doing so. xxx

      Delete
  22. Reading this was an immersion in nostalgia, what a lovely tribute to your childhood home xx

    ReplyDelete
  23. That's a beautiful house. I can understand it being a wrench to part with it, as it was so very personal to your parents, not just somewhere they bought but somewhere they built.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Mim. My Dad would have loved to have kept it into the family, but none of us had the money, unfortunately ... xxx

      Delete
  24. I'm fascinated by both the modern design of the house and by the fact your grandfather and father did most of work by themselves. It is a beautiful and unique home for sure. There are so many little details in it that feel so unique. I will have to come back for a closer look some other time.

    I can understand why it is hard to part with it. We always leave a part of ourselves in the homes we lived it. I miss my old home often.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Oooh! I love your childhood home! Your parents had a lovely vision that your father and grandfather brought to life with incredible craftsmanship! Not sure how anyone could handle those floor grates, though. Otherwise, gorgeous!

    We weren't nomads when I was young, but we moved every two or three years. Very typical two-bedroom, one-bath small suburban homes built from the 1920s through WW II. Real estate was my parents path to the American dream. They were able to begin to acquire a few rental properties after the third move. My childhood memories of home are a bit different, but equally precious. :-)

    The passing of our parents is an odd phenomenon, isn't it? Expected, but still unexpected when it actually occurs. And although we already were adults at that time, it reinforced that fact in no uncertain terms!

    It's sad that your childhood home no longer is part of your family, but it is ready to make new memories with another family. Here's hoping those memories will be as good as yours!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your comment, Taja. The passing of one's parents is indeed an odd phenomenon. I love the though of the new family creating happy memories in my childhood home! xxx

      Delete