Vine House

Well, the weather has been every bit as ghastly as predicted - gales, torrential rain, the odd rumble of thunder and cold :( Things are meant to be easing off shortly. Who would believe it's the 1st June - a fire may well have to be lit shortly, I swear I can see my breath in the kitchen!

Still, a good opportunity to catch up with stuff. A nostalgic rummage through photo albums and a hunt for some photos of my parents' old house as requested for its 350th birthday party. They moved to the Fens from Essex in 1974 as part of my father's job. No-one wanted to go. My mother loved the old house, my brother and I had almost left home but it was too far for my father to commute. We spent many days driving around Cambridgeshire looking at properties - three of us very grumpy and unhelpful. I swear it was me who spotted Vine House and we all grudgingly agreed to take a look. An old chap lived within and it was dark and dingy and painted in yellow and grey. The garden was a wilderness but we all spotted something. Offers were made and accepted and they moved in. The falling in love was slow but steady and soon my mother had painted everywhere, added tons of chinz and would vanish into the garden for hours. I only lived there for a few months but once married and babies arriving, it was a wonderful space to visit for long weekends and holidays.
Not long ago we were talking about our visits to the house and we all confessed to having had weird feelings there! None of us had ever mentioned anything when we visited but the lads confessed to having been a little afraid in one spot in the garden; Himself said he felt a coldness there too and I always heard strange things in the corridor and never liked sleeping there! Things had also been seen that couldn't be explained. We all stared in amazement at each other, thinking we had been alone in our paranoia. Only my brother says he felt nothing which amazes me for his bedroom had the most presence of anywhere.
The earliest images show the original side entrance with pumps and the  massive old barn that was once in the garden - only the wall remained. Other b&w pix show it as it was shortly before my parents bought it with the front entrance already blocked up. The explosion of pink and flowers was my mother's doing. The little building to the left had been a shop at some point and possibly a forge. There was also meant to have been a slaughter house on the site.
My parents were there for 24 years. They're still in the village, a peaceful cemetery surrounded by cattle, allotments, the playgroup and views out to Ely.