Thought I’d write this blog post having taken a final look around my late Grandparents home a few weeks ago and taken some photos with my Lomo camera and a black and white film.
The photos captured the mood perfectly.
My Grandparents moved into the house after it was built in the early 1980s and did very little to it in that time - it still has the original kitchen and bathroom fittings.
The only area that changed significantly over time was the garden that used to be laid mainly to lawn with flower beds surrounding that my Granddad would tend every day until his death in 1999.
My Nan, who was less inclined to spend so much time working in the garden, and who preferred to spend time sitting in and enjoying it while she continued her hobbies of lace making and cross stitch, began to gradually pave over the grass and reduce the expanse of flower beds to pots which were easier to tend. A small amount of grass remained to satisfy the needs of their Westie, but when she passed away a few years ago the garden became totally grass-free.
Inside, much of the furniture was brought with them from their previous house in London including the bedroom furniture, sideboard and cabinet. The carpet in the smaller bedroom had also been laid originally in London and is probably 50 years old – I doubt it will last 5 minutes with the new owners.
Gone is the sound of the radio, the tweeting of the budgies, the barking dog. No longer is the scrabble board set upon the table, the lace making and cross stitch are not there, and the smell of toast wafting in from the kitchen is replaced by the mix of stale air and fresh paint as my uncle and cousin have spent several weeks preparing the house for sale.
The garage is devoid of tools, fixtures and fittings (Granddad was a master carpenter), all that remains are a few elements not worth removing from the walls.
Saddest of all is the site of the two arm chairs that they occupied over the years - although these at least were replaced a few times – flanking the lighting stand and facing out to the garden.
The happiest of times . . . the saddest of times . . . all of time.