It is a period of growth and regeneration. In a bid for a better life people are moving from the cities to the countryside where new housing developments are springing up all the time. Each house is different, gardens are big and garages house not only a car but also work benches and cupboards, with still enough room to open the car door.
My family are already living in the village. With three children, two dogs and another baby on the way, the search is on for a bigger house.
Enquiries with a local developer yield news of a new yet to be announced housing development. An old house will be demolished and a development of around 40 detached houses will be built on the plot of land belonging to the old house.
Seizing the opportunity a prime plot is secured and appropriate modifications to plans made. The new house will occupy the same location as the old house. Some of the existing old gardens walls will be retained along with a large walnut tree.
Soon the past is swept away to make way for the future. This new house is constructed and my family move in the following Christmas. The new baby, my sister, is born in the April and I follow two years later, we are both born in the new family home.
I remember throughout my childhood the story of our house being told. The one part that stuck in my mind was the picture of the old house that stood before. For all these years the pictures have remained hidden, locked away in a “safe” place.
Looking through some old slides I came across my first glimpse of the old house and now more than ever I wish we could have moved in there instead. Don’t get me wrong, our family home holds many good memories, but it still saddens me that a house such as that should be demolished.
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