Our House. Memories.

Tonight while having a WhatsApp group chat with friends talking about old times I remembered the home I grew up in.

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Our house

In  the  middle  of  a  terrace,  in a horse shoe  surrounding  a green

It was  home  to us  all.  Our safe place, the best sight ever  seen.

In the  winter  icicles  appeared  on  the window inside  as well as  out

No  heating in the  bedrooms so   we  froze without  a doubt.

The  backroom was cosy there  was always  a fire in the grate

We fought to  sit at the  hearth, huddling  together extra heat  to  create .

Summer was different  the windows  and  doors open wide

The  garden  full of  veg and  blackberries  and  mud  we’d  trail inside!

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Not mum   but  not  far off.

Christmas time  was  special everyone  hanging up  the glitter

Mum  baking in the  kitchen  Dad and  the  boys  having  a  sneaky  bitter.

When I was  little, everyone  went to midnight Mass  except  Mum and  me,

We’d stay home and  dress the Christmas tree. Ready for  the  others on their  return   see.

There  were  so many  of us  yet  no  one  was ever turned  away

Whoever  turned up was welcome, relative , friend, waif or stray.

Dad had  an office in the  front  room each night he’d do his  Union work

Men came for help. After his  working  day. His responsibilities  he didn’t  shirk.

There were only  three bedrooms all packed  to  overflowing

It could be  very  hectic  because  we would not  stop growing.

Four generations. So many memories,  too many  to  share

Sadly  the  house is  sold  and  closed  to me, though it is  still there.

We all got  Married  from  that  house, we were  all were  blessed

Our  Parents did not have  much  but  they  always  did  their best.

Funerals  Parties  and  reunions  it was  always  the place  to meet

For  over  sixty years  it  made  our lives  complete.

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Our House 

In  the  middle  of  a  terrace,  in a horseshoe  surrounding  a green

It was  home  to us  all.  Our safe place , the  best sight ever  seen

Thursday photo prompt: Worn #writephoto

This week’s prompt for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto ~ Worn

For visually challenged writers, the image shows deeply worn stone steps, scattered with plants growing in the cracks, leading up to a blue-painted door.

Before Cissey died she stood in the ginnel looking up at doors. Nothing had changed. The steps they used to climb up and down to school, to work to home. Still there worn and full of stories. When babies the pram would be stood at the bottom of the steps and the door was left open so a watchful eye was kept.

As Children they’d perch on the steps and shell the peas and peel carrots and potatoes. Each would have a job. The house was small for a family of ten so often they spilled over on to the steps. Noisy, rowdy, quiet pensive, laughing crying all life flowed out of the two up two down housr on to the steps.

One by one they left the safety of the home, walked down the steps either with Dad or Mum or alone to set up a new life. Some went far some just to another street.

They always came back, for birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, christenings, Christmas and funerals. Always at any event they spilled out on to the steps.

As time past the traffic on the steps become less yet somehow the indents looked accentuated deeper worn. Over the years the generations grew until there was no one left to truly know the significance of the worn steps. Who’s feet had left their mark on history.

Sell it the young ones said, not knowing the reasons for the worn steps. They painted the door, they painted the railings, they thought about repairing the steps but left them.

The for sale sign went up, people came to see the house. They saw the potential, they saw the new paint, the newly added kitchen and bathroom. They didn’t see the generations of family on the steps so many joys and dramas.

Nobody saw them but a special few felt them on the worn out steps. One couple saw them too and they bought the house and the steps.

Reminiscing

Today  out  the  blue  my eldest sister  sent  me  a photo  she  had  take  of  our  family  outside  our  home  in London. Circa  1956  ! It  was  such a  lovely  surprise and  it  really  took me  back!

As  Teresa  was taking  the  photo  and  not  visible   I asked  her  to  find another  one  but  with her  in it! She  did,   this  time  one  of  the  twins  was  absent  as  she  was  taking  the  photo !  I  look a  little older in  this  one  so  I  reckon  it is  circa   1958.

Top  photo :  Elder Brother T with his  tongue out,Mum, , Dear  Mary   now  deceased, Elder  brother’s Twin F,   Brother  JP, Dad  and  me.

Bottom photo: Eldest sister Tess, brother T in  long  trousers  this  time, a  cousin, brother  JP with  his  tongue out this  time, Mary  peeping out  at  the  back , another  cousin  and  then  me looking  grumpy!!

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Reminiscing 

I remember the  days of  black and  white

When  we  were  taught   wrong  from   right .

Endless days  of  love while growing up

Here I  drink  from yesterday’s cup.

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Here  we  are in  days gone  by

My  those  years spread  their  wings  and fly.

Hot dinners ,comfort in  the  family  fold

Things  to  remember when we  get old.

 

Someone is  missing, sister  Tess,

With the  camera  she  catches  us in time

Come good  or ill,all of us, lives  entwine

This  made  me what I  am I  guess.

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Days  were  so much  simpler  then

I bet  you  think  I have rose tinted  glasses on

I  know  you  do  but  you  are  wrong!

❤   ❤

 

 

Muted Monday: Night Journey

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JusJoJan : Home made Home grown!

I have absolutely  no idea what  to blog  about  tonight

My  muse has fled left  me high  and dry  and that’s not  right!

Today  has been a very  busy one

We went  to  help  our daughter in law  and our  youngest  son.

A lovely house they  have bought  but there is so much  to do

As  my  dad always said many hands  make  light  work, and that is true!

The  work is all  very  nearly  done and it it looks a lot  like home

There is also a baby on the way , home  made  and home grown!

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