Shirl is has put her house on the market, complete with the original feature of blue downstairs loo.
It was an emotional moment when she broke the news. I had recently asked if I could have first option on the house.
"What will you do with it?" she asked
"Flatten it" I replied (I'd love to put a Huf Haus up there)
So I didn't get first refusal, and I sincerely hope that no-one we know will arrive on our doorstep telling us they've just viewed my Mother's house.
Shirl doesn't live there, and has made it her project this year to do a 'make-over'.
Her boyfriend (Wotcha!) has been helping.
The oak flooring that was going to cover the entire downstairs appeared in the form of end of line clip laminate flooring from Macro.
Apart from the fact it looks awful, it sinks when you walk on it.
The edging strips have been laid on top of the floor, next to the old skirting board..um, how can I put this, it's not a flush fit.
The new bathroom suite (white!!!) is already in disrepair ("it was a really good deal"), and the new fitted kitchen is still covered in pvc.
My sister lived there for six weeks in between houses and was not allowed to remove the plastic from the cupboards or indeed the draining board!
My old bedroom curtains are still up and Shirl has painted over the footprint stickers I put up the wall 25 years ago.
It's so bad it's funny, but I'm so ashamed...what if people think I helped her do it? I just don't think I could cope with that sort of gossip.
My original suggestion of a freestanding bath in front of the window would have been beautiful, the hill drops down in front of the house and you have uninterupted views of at least 10 miles.
What has she done?
Ah, well there's a lovely upvc FROSTED (!!) window in the bathroom with the bath tucked against the wall in case you can see through the window at night when the light is on...
I'm telling you, if they have telescopes that strong in Wales, they certainly aren't going to bother carrying them up the mountains to look at my mother in the bath through a frosted window.
Will I become like this?
Pour me a double...
Saturday, 6 October 2007
Wednesday, 3 October 2007
Following On
I don't remember that much of my childhood before South Wales.
Moving to Herefordshire was equally shocking.
My mother spent the entire time we lived in the mistakenly bought house, stripping seven layers of wallpaper off every wall and re-decorating. My father probably installed a blue bathroom (as he did in every property he ever owned), but I've managed to block that out. When the house was finished, it was put on the market and sold within the week, this time rather than a plethora of property, we had no-where to go.
We moved into a very old and grand hotel for six weeks and ate Gammon Steak and Chips every night for dinner (well that's how I remember it). My parents sank the odd bottle of Blue Nun or Black Tower and life was just tickety.
While we lived in the hotel, my parents desperately added the finishing touches (roof, kitchen, blue bathroom) to the cottage they had bought just before Dad bought the last house by mistake (instead of the dining chairs he'd originally gone to the auction for). Am I making myself clear?
I remember the electrician fitting the kitchen units and the decorators were called Harry, Harry and Harold.
Of course once we moved in no-one turned up with a pot of morning tea! We would leave our rooms in the morning and when we wanted to go to bed no-one had bothered to tidy up and waitress service was lousy. I hadn't seen washing up for months, it was terrifying.
The children all spoke differently again, and I couldn't understand them either. We went to school in the remnants of a blue Morris Mini-bus and were always so very grateful and awfully surprised to get dropped off within sight of our house each afternoon. We had pheasants in our field that made strange noises like they were choking and the wind howled through the woods behind the house in Winter.
Locals told us it was haunted..
Great, another fine mess we'd just gotten into.
Moving to Herefordshire was equally shocking.
My mother spent the entire time we lived in the mistakenly bought house, stripping seven layers of wallpaper off every wall and re-decorating. My father probably installed a blue bathroom (as he did in every property he ever owned), but I've managed to block that out. When the house was finished, it was put on the market and sold within the week, this time rather than a plethora of property, we had no-where to go.
We moved into a very old and grand hotel for six weeks and ate Gammon Steak and Chips every night for dinner (well that's how I remember it). My parents sank the odd bottle of Blue Nun or Black Tower and life was just tickety.
While we lived in the hotel, my parents desperately added the finishing touches (roof, kitchen, blue bathroom) to the cottage they had bought just before Dad bought the last house by mistake (instead of the dining chairs he'd originally gone to the auction for). Am I making myself clear?
I remember the electrician fitting the kitchen units and the decorators were called Harry, Harry and Harold.
Of course once we moved in no-one turned up with a pot of morning tea! We would leave our rooms in the morning and when we wanted to go to bed no-one had bothered to tidy up and waitress service was lousy. I hadn't seen washing up for months, it was terrifying.
The children all spoke differently again, and I couldn't understand them either. We went to school in the remnants of a blue Morris Mini-bus and were always so very grateful and awfully surprised to get dropped off within sight of our house each afternoon. We had pheasants in our field that made strange noises like they were choking and the wind howled through the woods behind the house in Winter.
Locals told us it was haunted..
Great, another fine mess we'd just gotten into.
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