Houses 'swept away'
It would seem that a lot of houses I lived in just don't exist anymore. Take my grandmothers house(s): the house she lived in with my beloved Welsh greatgrandmother happened to be on "the wrong side of town" so everyone in the family encouraged her to sell it. She did. And the new owners proceeded to tear it down in order to build a barbershop. No going back to visit my greatgrandmother's neat as a pin room with it's dove gray walls and white woodwork. And there was myrtle in the window boxes and a glass bowl filled with pheasant feathers and oak leaves - all gone.My grandmother bought another house, this time on the "right" side of town but, alas, on a terribly busy street. When she died the property was sold and consolidated with the plot next door - this time a gas station was built in its place. No going back there, either!
For awhile I lived with RA on Stanley Street in Townsville, NQ. The house was a beautiful, old Queenslander with balconies all around and the most gorgeous set of steps out front. It faced on the "the cutting" and there were hardly any neighbours. It was such a nice house and such a nice block of land - the house was sold and moved to a large parcel of land south of Townsville and on the spot where it stood, where we had so many dinner parties on the balcony, a number of apartments were built.
My son and I lived for a number of years in Sydney's Italian neighbourhood, Leichhardt. Originally a neighbourhood of close, extended families and fabulous gardens, it became a trendy DINK watering hole with bars, clubs, theatres - and lots of tiny townhouses and units all crammed together with nary a garden in sight. We lived in a very old terrace house on a big block of land - the perfect block of land to squeeze lots more apartments on. So we moved on and that comfy old place is gone.
We were moved on and on and found a little Victorian cottage in Rosehill in Sydney's West. Besides a carriagehouse and stables for two horses was a perfect three-bedroom Victorian cottage. The roof was made of slate with Victorian curlicues and there were plaster-trimmed archways with cherubs, stained glass and two porches. There were roses, French lavender, camellias and a peach and a loquat tree. We had a herb garden and a garden with sweet corn and strawberries. Our Lebanese neighbours gave us a grape cutting and it reached the top of the stables. Maybe due to the busy road out front, the rent was very reasonable. After three years, it happened again. The entire block of ten houses was bought up so that apartments could be built. Again, it was time to go.
But the house that I mourn the most still stands, it's only been swept away in a figurative sense. It's in Michigan and it's the little white house I always thought I'd wind up in. I think it deserves its own post so I'll write more at another time.
posted by Susan @ 7:09 pm
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