Post Fifty-Six

How Many Homes Have You Lived In?

I guess I’m really lucky when it comes to housing. Unlike many people, I haven’t had to move around to so many new homes in my short time on this Earth. I never really thought about it before, but my home has always been a fortress, the place I dwell, one of the only constants in my life.

My first home was an end-of-terrace affair, ‘60s built and not too big. Mum and dad moved in there with my two brothers in the early to mid ‘80s, and we have many, many photos taken inside. So many parties, so many memories. A wonderful place, not just a house but a home. Then I showed up. It was a really good place to live, so you can imagine the look of horror on my face when mum and dad said ‘we’re moving, and you have no say’. I was like ‘hang on, I live here too’. Turns out, my opinion didn’t matter. We moved because of the neighbours. They were extremely loud in all their activities. We even called the police (not the band) and they said there was nothing they could do unless we pressed charges. And they’d just lost their mother, so it wasn’t much of an option. So, sadly, after 16 years of living there (since I showed up), we moved.

I like where we are now. It’s nice here. I much prefer the old house, but I think everybody’s favourite house is their first. This house? Well, it’s detached (as is the way with almost all new homes built in the UK) but I still have to deal with noise from noisy kids outside. Windows on new homes have vents in them, which lets in all the noise and lets out all the heat. But without them, a new house can’t be signed off and sold. So I put some tape over them. I also bought some earplugs. Neither work. We’ve been here for, wow, six years.

Oh golly, how time flies.

Ciao :)(:

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