Thursday, 27 January 2011

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History: Home

The home I lived in for the first six years of my life was a small brick house in London overlooking a HUGE sawyer's yard (my father ran security).

I remember when we moved to Somerset, that we looked at several houses to rent, but I rejected them all (at age 7) if the water in the toilet was too deep (so a shark might come up there and bite you).  The one we eventually rented for most of my teenage years did have deep-ish toilet water, which made me uneasy, but that was overshadowed by the solid diamond doorhandle to the living room.  Solid diamond, riiiiiiiight.  Well, when you are 7 and have a vivid imagination, anything is possible, isn't it?

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