Maggie is our host this week and today we are going to amble around through the places of your youth.
This week’s prompt is: Spaces and Places
I was born in a council house on a Saturday morning in May 1956. My Dad gave Mum gas and air as the nurse helped bring me into the world, but didn’t agree with my weight, and said I was at least 9lbs so she weighed me again. I was 9lbs and half an ounce.
Guess my weight issues started at birth then.
We moved in 1965 to a house Dad had built, and after my brother got married, I had a bedroom to myself having shared with my sister beforehand.
Visitors usually came on Sundays and in the evenings we would play cards, occasionally for pennies, but it was always a lot of fun.
Our friends were always made welcome, and some preferred our house to theirs. This could have been because our house wasn’t running with younger siblings!
I attended a regular school, and passed my 11+ to Grammar school which I hated. I attended Sunday school for years and would sing in the choir.
As a kid I would spend time playing with friends and in my early teens attended a youth club. No boyfriends though as I was a late starter in that department.
I got married in 1977 and we bought a new house which was in a terrace of three. We had an end one so had a window in our bathroom whereas the middle property had an extractor fan. Sadly the marriage ended after three years and I returned to the parental home, which was then a very modest semi purchased in 1973. It had been empty for over 20 years and my Dad got a council mortgage. It needed a lot of work as it had gas lighting (which still worked), no bathroom, and was in a very bad state of repair.
All of us contributed to getting it decorated and modernised, but from Day 1, it was always Home.
That house has a lot of memories as it was filled with love and laughter as well as sorrow, especially when it was sold in 1995 and my parents moved in with my sister.
My Dad died the following year and I was always grateful that Mum wasn’t on her own at that time. She continued to live with my sister until September 2017 when dementia took too much of a hold and my sister could no longer cope, so she was placed in a home. She had a fall at Christmas and was taken into hospital, where she died in January 2018.
A bittersweet timeline. But that is life – sweet times and troubled times all jumbled together…
Good memories though.
Thanks for joining in Di. I can’t imagine a house without a bathroom. It sounds like your home was filled with good family memories.
When we moved in, it only had two doors, one at the front and one at the back. The fourth bedroom was converted to a bathroom, but we had a separate loo which was originally a cupboard. It was so small, your elbows touched the sides and you could rest your head against the door when you were ‘on the throne’.
Only one room was habitable when we moved in and we all worked together getting other rooms ready. The last room to be finished was the lounge, and it was so nice to sit on a chair or settee instead of a work bench!
That must have been a real life lesson of appreciation.
It was just Mum Dad and me in the beginning and we shared a bedroom, then another bedroom was finished so my sister moved in and we shared while Mum and Dad had theirs. Then the third bedroom was done and Sis had her own room. In between, Dad did the kitchen which was extremely basic with wall shelves, floor cupboards, and Mum’s worktop dropped down from the wall. The dining room was next, then the hall, and finally the lounge. Priority had been getting a bathroom in, gas heating and electricity. We all mucked in both with our labour and money, and I learned a lot about making things work on a shoestring. We were all working, so the house stuff was done in the evenings and at weekends. It was very much a family home with a lot of blood sweat and tears, but above all, love and unity.
That sounds awesome
It was a difficult time, but we all pulled together and Mum loved that house.
I was born in a council house in 1957 and the house number was 10. We moved house not long after I was born. Later, when I was 8, we moved back to the council estate to number 11….the house next door!
How ironic is that! Did the furniture fit?
Our house number was 34, the same age as my Mum when she had me!
I can remember all the furniture was transported in my dad’s work lorry.
When we moved here, everything we owned fitted into our I10 and our friends camper van. The only piece of furniture we had was our coffee table from the boat (tiny) and two swivel chairs said friends had given us when they upgraded theirs on their boat. We’d bought a mattress on the way up to collect the keys so that was ‘breathing’ on the floor when we arrived 2 days later.
Well you’ve had a journey , happy times , sad times and that what makes you who you are a real person 💜💜💜
Thanks Willow. Yahoo mail is still convinced I’m a robot!!
I am not sure what a terrace of three is, but I do understand how we can make a place a home even if it needs work. Thanks, Di. It is always good to have you join in.
It’s a row of three houses, two end ones and one in the middle. Vast numbers of properties were often built in terraces with archways through to the rear or access via a back lane. The council house I was born in was a terrace of four with a walkway through to the back though the upper floor was attached to next door. The kids there and us use to tap on the walls at bedroom and make up our own code!