Seventy five years ago my grandpa bought an fairly uninteresting detached house down a small lane with a reasonable garden, backing onto the main cemetery in Rotherham. He moved in with his family: wife and three children. Over the years, he added bits to both the house and the grounds and the children, obviously, grew up. My father went to the grammar school which was about two hundred yards away...
Eventually, (arguably a little too early) his children started producing grand-children, seven of us were born into the house, me and three of my siblings and three of my cousins. I (having spend a long time with my other grandparents (another story)) and my family moved into one of the Georgian terraces that are between the road and the house in the early sixties. We could go down and see our grandparents at the end of the garden whenever we wanted to. And I wanted to, to see Thunderbirds, 'cos we couldn't watch ITV at home, so I'd wander through the garden and my grandparents would let me watch it. Grandparents always allow you to do what your mother doesn't...
In May 1966 we bought the house from grandpa, taking part of the garden with us. The place was amazing. We had more apple trees than you could shake a stick at. Two lawns. (Although father wasn't keen on us playing on them.) A wood. A wall against the cemetery. No-one else lived anywhere liked this.
In our teenage years 86 became a haven for not just ourselves, but any of our friends who were about. There's a thread on Facebook where an unexpectedly large number of saying how much they enjoyed the freedom of our house.
Father expanded the area a little more, and created a pond that's been home to various fish, frogs and a few ravaging birds. In Autumn we'd get the starlings swarming in the trees as they got ready for their migration. Lots of birds, foxes and I once saw a stout. There were also shrews, until our first cat made sure that there weren't...
Even after I moved to London and made my own home with my wife, I always have thought of 86 as my second base. Almost always my wife and I have stayed at different places in Rotherham. She's stayed at her parent's place 'cos she couldn't cope with the chaos, and I stayed at 86 'cos I couldn't cope with the niceness...
Anyway, some off it died with my mother, back in 2007, and then my father died in 2010. Both died in their own home, which is (I think) what they wanted. The place became a bit stale for a while, but then my sisters both started to turn it back into a home. Sadly it was a home that their incomes just couldn't afford, so it's got to go.
And it does this week. Today is the last day for me in the place that I've known as a home all of my life.
Eventually, (arguably a little too early) his children started producing grand-children, seven of us were born into the house, me and three of my siblings and three of my cousins. I (having spend a long time with my other grandparents (another story)) and my family moved into one of the Georgian terraces that are between the road and the house in the early sixties. We could go down and see our grandparents at the end of the garden whenever we wanted to. And I wanted to, to see Thunderbirds, 'cos we couldn't watch ITV at home, so I'd wander through the garden and my grandparents would let me watch it. Grandparents always allow you to do what your mother doesn't...
In May 1966 we bought the house from grandpa, taking part of the garden with us. The place was amazing. We had more apple trees than you could shake a stick at. Two lawns. (Although father wasn't keen on us playing on them.) A wood. A wall against the cemetery. No-one else lived anywhere liked this.
In our teenage years 86 became a haven for not just ourselves, but any of our friends who were about. There's a thread on Facebook where an unexpectedly large number of saying how much they enjoyed the freedom of our house.
Father expanded the area a little more, and created a pond that's been home to various fish, frogs and a few ravaging birds. In Autumn we'd get the starlings swarming in the trees as they got ready for their migration. Lots of birds, foxes and I once saw a stout. There were also shrews, until our first cat made sure that there weren't...
Even after I moved to London and made my own home with my wife, I always have thought of 86 as my second base. Almost always my wife and I have stayed at different places in Rotherham. She's stayed at her parent's place 'cos she couldn't cope with the chaos, and I stayed at 86 'cos I couldn't cope with the niceness...
Anyway, some off it died with my mother, back in 2007, and then my father died in 2010. Both died in their own home, which is (I think) what they wanted. The place became a bit stale for a while, but then my sisters both started to turn it back into a home. Sadly it was a home that their incomes just couldn't afford, so it's got to go.
And it does this week. Today is the last day for me in the place that I've known as a home all of my life.
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