A memory of a house

I am sitting in my parents house in Norfolk, the house of my childhood. I am feeling quite nostalgic. I think I must be very fortunate to still have both my parents and that they have never moved house. The house has been in my dad’s family for 3 generations. It started life as 2 small farm workers cottages. My great grandfather, Tom, the local postman lived in one side and his son George, my granddad, a farm worker, lived in the other side with his 2 son’s George, my late Uncle and John, my Dad. My grandmother died when my dad was 10. She had breast cancer. I never knew her, but was told she had auburn hair. I remember my granddad being very pleased when he could see my hair was showing a lot of red when I was in my early teens. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it came out of a bottle. But I have carried on dyeing my hair in various shades of red in her memory for the majority of my life. It is particularly red at present as I have resorted to henna as less abrasive.

When my great grandfather died he left his half of the house to my Dad, who was already engaged to my mum. So when they married in 1958 they moved straight in. They celebrated their Golden Wedding in March this year. We had a wonderful luncheon at a local hotel, presided over by Agatha Christie! Agatha had been a visitor to the hotel when it was a private house and now her portrait hangs in the dining hall. Luckily no murders took place whilst we were there!

Mum soon placed her mark on the property. She was a teacher of needlework and soon had her sewing machine out making curtains and covers. The original cottage was small, the front porch lead straight into the living room, to the left was a small kitchen with a walk in larder. At the corner of the living room was a small latched door, which lead to the crooked staircase. As a child I had many recurring dreams of falling down those stairs but never reaching the bottom, I’d wake with a bump though and be hot and sweating.
Upstairs there was my parents bedroom which you had to walk through to get to my bedroom, a tiny cosy room. We were fortunate my dad was a plumber so we had a bathroom in the other small room. My grandad’s cottage next door was almost identical, but he didn’t get a bathroom until 1970. He used the privy in the garden and had a tin bath. We had a privy at the bottom of our garden too, we kept it in use until about 1969 because my Nan on my Mum’s side was severely arthritic and couldn’t climb the stairs to use the bathroom when she came to stay. In 1969 my dad built a huge extension to the cottage, making 2 new bedrooms, a lounge, cloakroom and hallway. It felt very grand.

Shortly after this my nan came to live with us as she could no longer cope alone and needed to be cared for. She had to sleep in our dining room, because she couldn’t get upstairs. She smelt. Life was quite strained for mum and dad. Mum was having to look after nan in the house and granddad next door. As a child though I loved having my nan because she loved to read to me, dad would take her chair into the lounge and we’d help her walk with her frame through to sit in the lounge. We’d watch television together. She loved Songs of praise , but couldn’t understand my love of Top of the Pops. Every week she’d make the same comments about the singers with long hair. “That’s a girl!” “No Nan, that’s a man!” she never believed me!

Christmas was always special. The chimney was in the dining room and even before nan came to live permanently she would always stay at Christmas and we’d do the sprouts together and she’d promise to watch out for Father Christmas for me. On Christmas morning my sister and I would come down all excited and nan would confirm that she’d seen Father Christmas and told him we’d been good , so there’d be a huge pile of wonderful presents by the foot of the Christmas tree. It was so magical. We’d go to bed on Christmas Eve with a bare tree and come down Christmas morning to a sparkling tree full of lights and baubles. I though Father Christmas decorated the tree as well as bringing presents for many years!

My grandad’s house next door remained stuck in the 1930’s, he eventually conseded to allow dad to put a bathroom in but the rest of the house was like a museum. His kitchen was the most basic, just a Belfast sink and one electric ring. He didn’t have a fridge, just an old meat safe. Though he didn’t prepare much food , mum used to do food for him.
He spent his days on the allotment garden that he owned down the road, he grew the most wonderful vegetables. He couldn’t walk very fast as he’d been injured in a farm accident years back and had one leg shorter than the other.
Grandad had serious anemia, he was on tablets but every day he’d have a glass of Guiness. When I was young I’d go round to his after lunch and he’d have his radio on and we’d listen to “Listen with mother”, Grandad would pour out his Guiness and give a small glass to me. I felt very grown up. Didn’t like it very much but I’d drink it any way like medicine. It was certainly better han theCod liver oil my Mum gave me in the mornings!
Grandad had a piano. I was having piano lessons from the age of 9 and so I had to go into grandad’s to practise, I hated it. I wasn’t very good and granddad would make remarks. So I’d not want to go and practise , consequently I never got very good and gave up by the time I was 13.
One of my grandad’s favourite sayings was “Come in if your nose is clean!”, he’d shout this out whenever we knocked on the door to see him. Never really understood it, but he thought it was funny!
Grandad was a very generous man. Every Tuesday he’d go to Stalham Sale and every Thursday to North Walsham for the Market. We only had buses on those days. He would always buy us sweets. Trouble was he bought ¼ of boiled sweets and after a while we’d get bored of these and they’d stay in packet getting sticky and then another packet would come. In the school holidays he would take me with him, so I would chose the sweets and for a while I’d get the ones I liked. Sherbert Lemons or Bon Bons were my favourite, then he’d forget and we’d go back to boiled fruit sweets. At Christmas granddad always gave us huge numbers of presents , he would start buying little gifts on each trip to market from about august and he’d wrap them all up ready for Christmas Day. I was such a lucky child to get so many presents, it wasn’t until he died I realised how many presents he gave us. Christmas was never quite the same. I missed my Rupert annuals especially!

When Grandad died my dad inherited his cottage next door. Being a builder as well as a plumber he was able to knock through and modernise the old into the new and has created a wonderful warm and cosy house which I still call “home”.