Because it was still raining after we left the church and not really walking weather I suggested we went to see my other childhood church which is Booton church. As we drove, I asked if we could make a detour past my old house, the house I grew up in. Something must have called to me I think. I pointed out the place where my friend Jessica and I used to say hello to the pigs, and the green lane where we blackberried every year and the rabbit warren and the water meadows. As we passed the common and pulled up outside, thinking to take just a moment's glimpse, my heart was beating fast. We stopped. And looked. And looked. My house is almost derelict, still roofed, just, but so sad. I asked if David would mind stopping while I took a peep and I looked through the hall window and the place was empty. It was a little heart-breaking to see my old home so tired and poor. But because it was clearly vacant David pulled into the front garden and parked and we had a look around the whole building and the garden at the back. I showed him my bedroom windows and the place where the house martin's used to nest. Told him where the rabbits lived and he found the well which was closed up when we were children but is now beautiful, and a tad dangerous, with ferns. 
I wondered if we could get in but it was all locked up and when we had walked all the way round one of the neighbours had come over to see what we were up to. I told him I'd lived there many, many years ago and how sad and strange it was to find it so broken down. He said that there were scaffolders coming in on monday to fix the roof, and that the house had been bought last winter for a bit under £300k. I hope that the new owners love it. I think it is a house that needs filling with joy. 
Like mole in Wind in the Willows I had forgotten my old home, too wrapped up in living my now, but having found it again I find that I remember it well. The funny thing is I can see all the views from the windows, in every season. I can see the garden as my dad had laid it out, he was/is a good gardener.  Since yesterday, I've been mapping out that garden in my head; the lilac hedge, the pampas grass, the rockery, the dogwood, the apple tree, the rose beds, mum's washing line, the sand pit, the terrace, the wood shed, my dad's workshop and study (both forbidden territory). There are so many memories; our old dog, two cats, four rabbits, a lot of guinea pigs, some mice, two budgerigars, wild mice (not pets). It's such long, long, long ago life and yet it feels so fresh in my mind perhaps that's the nature of memories laid down in young minds. They are old memories but they were set in wet cement. I feel a little mad in a way. I was glad to have a friend with me. I think I might have cried if I'd been alone.