There's a good local free magazine, much beloved by small builders, local care homes wanting staff, and estate agents. Mrs Scroblene asked me to pick up a copy last week, as there was a name she expected to see inside, and I was drawn, inexplicably to the property pages, there was nearly an obsessive need to read every page, and Scrobs usually succumbs quite happily to all sorts of obsessions, mainly those with an ABV of about 13%...
Somehow, all the pictures of houses led me to the next one, then the next, until the top one leapt out, as deep down, I probably knew it would!
Yup, our old family home is back on the market!
And looking through the particulars, I'm saddened really, that the place has changed, as it must have done without Scrobs Senior's direction and taste, and nothing seems right at all. The windows just don't seem to fit, there are carpets over some of the best oak flooring available when the place was built, and the garden is just a mess!
Of course, I'll never get to see the house again, as it would be a farce for me to try and pass myself off as a prospective purchaser; I'd be rumbled as soon as I noticed the nails I banged in the garage roof, or spotted the air-gun slugs still embedded in the utility room ceiling, but I suppose I can tell the estate agents a little of why the old place - now sixty years old - at least has some form and history, from a grateful Scrobs and his dear sister.