House

Happy birthday to our house. It's 14 years to the day since we moved in. I was eight months pregnant with Grace.  When I turned the key in the lock for the very first time I came face to face with the previous owner who told me to 'never underestimate the amount of time it takes to move house.' Over the next few days I watched him endlessly fill his smallish car with loads from the shed, attic and cellar and drive it away. He was moving to Paris.

When we finally had the house to ourselves it felt enormous. We had one stripy sofa which my mum had given us and bits that we'd bought, but nowhere near enough stuff to fill a whole house. We loved the space, the light, the coloured glass in the windows and all the wood. Everything was wooden. Nothing was new. The old paint was the colour of latte. The house made beautiful shadows. The garden was full of pale lilac crocus which grew through the lawn. We loved the idea of filling the house with us and our stuff - the house is now stuffed full of us. Sal was born here.  The house has endlessly adapted to fit us all in, rooms have changed use, changed hands, changed shape and colour. It's been a perfect house for our young family, and now it's having to adapt again to fit three nearly teenagers.  It's a hard working house. We're lucky to have it. It deserves a Blip.

Happy Birthday House.