I am not sure that it made economic sense but I headed to Shipston yesterday to pick up the lawnmower of my late father. I also found a sharp saw so that might have improved the maths a bit. The house is meant to be sold within days so this was my last trip.
The place is completely bare which feels odd. There is, at least, a wooden bench in the back garden where I sat a while and had a brief chat over the fence to neighbour A about cats past and present. A’s cat, apparently still goes looking for his old friend, my father’s latecate Obie. He never saw a body and cannot seem to accept that Obie is in abetter place now. The view below is from the back door up a garden bathed in sunshine with flowers everywhereawaiting its next careful owner.
When my father and stepmother Helen arrived there about thirty years ago what you see now was piled with rubbish and a total mess, rather like the field at the Welsh Hovel where we now have the Ha Ha. My sisters have left photos of what the house and garden were like before, for the new owners. I hope they appreciate the upgrades Dad and Helen made.
