A House is Not A Home

But in this case it is.

Ever since my first house, a quarter villa in Inver-keith-ing (that's how we say it here), I have had a love of sitting outside our house, looking in, at everything I love.

I remember sitting on the steps outside my wee house in Struan Drive, you could see the whole house from the outside - Everything there was to see, was there before you.

Next house, in Kelvindale in Glasgow, had the same appeal, and the same style of entrance. I was able to sit on steps, looking in to the light within.

The next house, although with it's happy moments, was not a nice place to live, and although we tolerated it, it actually wasn't safe to sit outside, after dark looking in. Plus, we closed the curtains to keep the outside out.

This house, we have lived for 11 years now. We had been here 11 months and 15 days when the millenium arrived. We are happy here, and our children are growing into happy, and gorgeous adults.

I could happily stand outside, and smile inside all night - the neighbours here don't mind, they know I'm a bit off my head.

This is a nice one - I can see everyone. I had to shout my daughter. She is studying in her room upstairs, my love is doing the ironing watching TV, and my son is just standing up from the table to go out for the evening.

I've just had a wee bimble up to the local shop to buy milk, and the local paper, and stopped in to chat to Mandy on the way back. She does lovely pedicures and reflexology, and has just "minxed" her nails.

To come back, around the corner, and see my happy home, just finishes off the walk for me.