My photo homage to my childhood home - "Number 64"

Last month - January 2016 - before I left my childhood home for the last time before it is sold, I cleaned it all up, vacuumed, dusted and polished - and then took lots of pictures of every nook and cranny. Of course, at this point, the house has become an empty shell: - most of the furniture has gone, nearly all the ornaments, pictures, lamps, clocks and nick-nacks have gone... And above all, my parents have gone... But, I still took pictures, because my house was never just "bricks and mortar" to me: - my house was a living character. It had a soul. And, I loved it with all my being. The walls, the bricks, the windows, the light, the atmosphere - it was a familiar, nurturing, (mostly) happy haven. And, this was the last time I would ever see it the way it was, before the new owners come in and change it all. It was the only way I knew how, to say a proper "goodbye". This will always be "my house". This was the house my parents bought in 1964 and watched it being built, brick by brick. Noone else had ever lived there. They bought the plot before even the first brick was built! I was born into it and lived in this house for the first 20 years of my life! We never moved. Even after I left home, went to Cambridge, and then moved to the U.S, my parents still never moved. So I was able to visit my childhood home many times over the years, at least once if not twice a year - bringing my husband and children over, to get to know it. It was home from home for them too. We had many Christmases, summers, springs and autumns here, many dinner parties, big gatherings, and every day fun here, throughout my entire life time.

My house once had a name: - "Nuthatch". So called, because the street it was on was "Filbert Crescent" and all the streets around it were named after nuts: - "Hazel Wood", "Cob Walk", "Almond Close", etc. And also because we always had lots of birds in the back garden, including the occasional, rare "nuthatch". But, all our friends referred to our house as "Number 64", for instance, "Let's meet at Number 64, then go on to the restaurant, etc". So, that's how I've always called my house in my head - "Number 64." It was the corner house, on the bend of a curved street, in a quiet cul-de-sac (no-through-road). It had the biggest back garden (yard) of all the street, and was very private and secluded. I spent many many hours in it, playing imaginary games, by myself, or with friends. It was right by the rail-way line (rail-track), but we didn't mind that somehow - it was part of the character of the house. We used to play a game that, when a train went by, you had to freeze, like a statue, until it passed, or the train would attack us (or something!) So, before I left my house the way it is, for ever, on January 23rd, 2016, I took pictures of every corner, every part of every room, views from the windows, and every part of the garden, from different angles - (I even took pictures of the inside of cupboards, not included here) - so that I can give myself a virtual tour of my house in pictures, any time in the future. (Some of the ornaments, cushions, plants, lamps and nick-nacks that are in these pictures have since been cleared out)...

I do have many more photos of the house from over the years, showing the changes in furniture, carpets, curtains, etc... Call me crazy, but, I'm finding that documenting and scrap-booking all my memories of my parents and my house is helping me cope (somewhat) with the massive loss. We all hope our happy memories never dim. I'm doing all I can to keep these memories alive.
Here are just a few of the photos I took...