I say in my author bio that I love big old houses. I think this house is responsible for that.
My granny’s house.
This is my granny's house. It houses two self-contained apartments, one on each floor, complete with their own kitchens and bathrooms. When my parents got married, the original plan was that they were going to move in with my maternal grandparents to help them run the farm. That plan never materialised because my grandfather passed away unexpectedly.
As a child, I spent many a happy day at this house and its gardens. When my granny grew older, she moved out of the house, but it remained in the family. After she died, after a few twists and turns, the house was eventually sold to a neighbour who was only interested in the land, not the house. As a result, the house has stood empty for almost two decades.
This house makes regular appearances in my dreams. I have a burning desire to visit it, at least once more, before it's torn down, but I don't have the guts to ask for permission. If I'm ever rich, I will buy it and do it up.
What didn't happen in my childhood just might happen in my retirement.