Home, sweet home

In Shropshire for a few days, staying with my cousin Christine and meeting with relatives from my mother's side of the family.

The house you see is in Wellington, my Mum and Dad moved here in 1959 and lived together until Mum died in 2003, Dad staying on his own until moved into care in 2009. My brother and I grew up in that house and although I left to go to college in 1972 I continued to come home until Dad moved out. So that building holds many memories and it still seems strange to think that there are different people living there now. We took a peek in the garden and Dad's hydrangeas are still growing well and the apple trees full of fruit. His sheds still stand, the same sheds from which we cleared out 50 years of stuff in 2009

Dad worked for over 57 years as a gardener in a Victorian kitchen garden and this house was a tied cottage, part of the job. It looks out over the Park, the cricket ground and the Wrekin. A wonderful situation which is always uplifting. When I was a boy there were always cows in in the Park but for many years this was not the case. Nice to see them back.

So the formative years of my life are bound up in that home, the sport, cricket with the gardening genes eventually coming to fruition after lying dormant for so many years. Shame I can't share the allotment successes with Dad.

A postscript: we found out that developers have proposed the building of 360 houses on the land behind my parents old house. That would cover all the fields seen in the background. This land is on the very edge of Wellington, looking out over the countryside. The old house was always surrounded by fields and open space which made it such a special place. I can hear my parents spinning in their graves. If I get chance, I'll blip a more detailed shot.