Monday, 3 December 2012
When we moved back to the UK and
finally found a house to rent it was a large farm house, built
400-500 years ago and hardly updated since. It had one and a half
bathrooms, neither of which had a trustworthy supply of hot water.
There were two secret staircases and a window that opened from the
end of a corridor upstairs into the ceiling of the sitting room
downstairs. There was no central heating, my glass of water would
freeze beside my bed at night and there was always ice on the inside
of the windows. We kept warm(ish) with two open fires, one of which
smoked so much that you had to keep the doors of the dining room
open. It had TB isolation hospital in the back garden from the first
world war which was made out of corrugated iron and housed an artist
in one end and sheep in the other. It was called Dislingbury
and It suited us perfectly.
We lived there and fought constantly to keep it from falling down around our ears. In total Mum and Dad stayed for a little over 17 years. They were accompanied by myself, my sister and my brother although not all of us all of the time. We were also accompanied by a vast selection of pets, friends and pets of friends and some friends of pets. My sister would bring new pets home from school at the end of term. Stick insects and gerbils. We had goldfish from the Paddock Wood Fair, Cats from the rescue centre, a Border Collie called Megan who was as important a part of the family as any of the rest of us. In the summer holidays my sister would bring more pets home from her summer job at the Farm Park - a rabbit called Mrs Crip who was crippled and not considered an attraction - her friend, a Guinea Pig who went by the name of Crip's mate. One day she walked up the drive with a small pony in tow, it slotted in with the other one who already lived on the lawn. We adopted friends in the same way, neither my sister or I had any concept of a 'sleepover' we rarely slept in our rooms alone, bringing friends home from school to stay the night almost every night. Two or three of our girlfriends all but moved in permanently.
I received an email from a friend of my parent's today, she remembers coming to visit us at Dislingbury and describes a wonderful and crazy time. She was reminded, by my writing about my brother, of the way my sister and I loved him and each other. She told me a story of my very small brother announcing to her that he was going to pee in my Dad's boot, she thought he was joking but he did it! My parents were getting ready to go to a party and Dad had to wear a wet boot. I remember her coming to stay- she would arrive from Dorset on her vespa wearing a tie-dye dress and red wellington boots. It was fun and there are endless hilarious stories. The crazy energy in the mad old house was kept alive by the passionate relationship between my parents. Either they were madly in love or screaming and shouting at each other, the passion finally suffocating the marriage in 2005.
When they finally left the house and branched out on their own (for the first time ever for both of them having been married their whole adult lives) We all felt a bit lost. The house had positive and negative memories for all of us. My sister and I returned less and less frequently but it was, after all, a family home. My brother missed it the most as he went off to boarding school. During the next few years I was busy making a home of my own in South East London having babies and hunkering down. My Sister was doing the same in Cornwall. Now we have all adapted - we don't need a family home to feel like a family. Whether we are all in Cornwall, or in our house, or in a pub together - we still feel the closeness. Mum and Dad come together to look after my children (and me when I'm in need). The family has changed - less pets, more children but the core of Love is still there. We've got each other's backs and always will have.
That house is about 3 miles away from here. I haven't been to have a look this time but I hear it's empty, crumbling into the ground and has all the fireplaces and anything else of interest ripped out and stolen. It's a shame but a reminder to keep moving forward.
I'm in my last week of comfort and preparing myself for the onslaught of chemo on Friday. I know what to expect now and am starting to get the fear. Last week's mouth ulcers have healed, I'm back in the Mummy saddle while my Husband works and I've had a very busy weekend.
On Saturday I went for High Tea at Browns of Mayfair with my Yummy Mummies of SE23 - They all looked amazing. The event was not all about me which was frankly refreshing after all the birthday celebrations. However they did keep me happy with a little bit of extra attention as they presented me with the loot they had raised for my eyebrows. It was more than they had set out to collect, by quite some amount. They decided to buy me an ipad for blogging with some of the money and I was actually rendered speechless momentarily which doesn't happen often. I'm incredibly touched by the effort they've gone to for me and flabbergasted by the generosity of my home community. I love my ipad and my eyebrows and will think of something very worthy to do with the rest of the money. I feel sheepish and spoilt all at once. They are trying to compile a list of all the people who donated which won't be easy as I think some just handed them money in the playground and the street. The Blond Bombshell has a career waiting for her in fundrasing and she has a ready made support team of photographers and runners. I have a wonderful book of photos of them running with their bushy brows which I will keep forever with my box of priceless diaries and teenage poem books!
We lived there and fought constantly to keep it from falling down around our ears. In total Mum and Dad stayed for a little over 17 years. They were accompanied by myself, my sister and my brother although not all of us all of the time. We were also accompanied by a vast selection of pets, friends and pets of friends and some friends of pets. My sister would bring new pets home from school at the end of term. Stick insects and gerbils. We had goldfish from the Paddock Wood Fair, Cats from the rescue centre, a Border Collie called Megan who was as important a part of the family as any of the rest of us. In the summer holidays my sister would bring more pets home from her summer job at the Farm Park - a rabbit called Mrs Crip who was crippled and not considered an attraction - her friend, a Guinea Pig who went by the name of Crip's mate. One day she walked up the drive with a small pony in tow, it slotted in with the other one who already lived on the lawn. We adopted friends in the same way, neither my sister or I had any concept of a 'sleepover' we rarely slept in our rooms alone, bringing friends home from school to stay the night almost every night. Two or three of our girlfriends all but moved in permanently.
I received an email from a friend of my parent's today, she remembers coming to visit us at Dislingbury and describes a wonderful and crazy time. She was reminded, by my writing about my brother, of the way my sister and I loved him and each other. She told me a story of my very small brother announcing to her that he was going to pee in my Dad's boot, she thought he was joking but he did it! My parents were getting ready to go to a party and Dad had to wear a wet boot. I remember her coming to stay- she would arrive from Dorset on her vespa wearing a tie-dye dress and red wellington boots. It was fun and there are endless hilarious stories. The crazy energy in the mad old house was kept alive by the passionate relationship between my parents. Either they were madly in love or screaming and shouting at each other, the passion finally suffocating the marriage in 2005.
When they finally left the house and branched out on their own (for the first time ever for both of them having been married their whole adult lives) We all felt a bit lost. The house had positive and negative memories for all of us. My sister and I returned less and less frequently but it was, after all, a family home. My brother missed it the most as he went off to boarding school. During the next few years I was busy making a home of my own in South East London having babies and hunkering down. My Sister was doing the same in Cornwall. Now we have all adapted - we don't need a family home to feel like a family. Whether we are all in Cornwall, or in our house, or in a pub together - we still feel the closeness. Mum and Dad come together to look after my children (and me when I'm in need). The family has changed - less pets, more children but the core of Love is still there. We've got each other's backs and always will have.
That house is about 3 miles away from here. I haven't been to have a look this time but I hear it's empty, crumbling into the ground and has all the fireplaces and anything else of interest ripped out and stolen. It's a shame but a reminder to keep moving forward.
I'm in my last week of comfort and preparing myself for the onslaught of chemo on Friday. I know what to expect now and am starting to get the fear. Last week's mouth ulcers have healed, I'm back in the Mummy saddle while my Husband works and I've had a very busy weekend.
On Saturday I went for High Tea at Browns of Mayfair with my Yummy Mummies of SE23 - They all looked amazing. The event was not all about me which was frankly refreshing after all the birthday celebrations. However they did keep me happy with a little bit of extra attention as they presented me with the loot they had raised for my eyebrows. It was more than they had set out to collect, by quite some amount. They decided to buy me an ipad for blogging with some of the money and I was actually rendered speechless momentarily which doesn't happen often. I'm incredibly touched by the effort they've gone to for me and flabbergasted by the generosity of my home community. I love my ipad and my eyebrows and will think of something very worthy to do with the rest of the money. I feel sheepish and spoilt all at once. They are trying to compile a list of all the people who donated which won't be easy as I think some just handed them money in the playground and the street. The Blond Bombshell has a career waiting for her in fundrasing and she has a ready made support team of photographers and runners. I have a wonderful book of photos of them running with their bushy brows which I will keep forever with my box of priceless diaries and teenage poem books!
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