moving on

Unfortunately during the time that I began this piece, my Dad passed away, which put a whole  different slant and poignancy on the many memories I’ve written about. So this is not only a way of saying goodbye to a house that I had spent most of my life in, but also a way to honour both of my parents for what they gave to myself and my brother. 

When I first knew that we were going to be moving from an area of Birmingham I had been living for most of my life and into our own house, many thoughts came into my mind. Some of them quite positive, like the fact that we would no longer have to endure the foul stench in the bathroom after Dad had visited it, or experience the Déjà vu of seeing him watch the same episode of Dads Army on UK Gold over and over again, or listen to his inane shouts in the night, after he had had skin full, fighting with the very fabric of his existence. Our move, meant that at last I could run around the house naked, mouth trumpeting the theme tune from Quantum Leap, like I always dreamed of.  

So, as I got ready to say goodbye to the house where I grew up, it seemed like as good a point as any to look back at the years I had spent there. So in the first part, I have done just that, looked back at the hay days of bedroom living, my childhood, my parents, my brother and the neighbours. Later, in part two I will explore how me and Ira have adapted to living in Yam Yam land in very heart of the Black Country. 

So firstly, lets take a look at
the highs and lows of living
at number 72…