Time and Times
Time and Times: A Farewell
Strange week. My sister and I have put my parent’s house up for sale. It’s been put off for a long time; mainly by the whole pandemic thing mashing our collective heads. It went on sale on Monday and there were viewings today and more programmed for the weekend. We have kind of half cleared the house but still need to get rid of some of the big furniture including the beds et al and all the silly stuff like cutlery and pots & pans (and whatever is in the shed). Will get a clearance company in to do that. Probably get a quote next week after this week of viewings come to an end.
It’s odd to think that today multiple strangers have been walking through our old front door, through the living room and kitchen, our bedrooms and our garden (let’s not say anything about the bathroom) with a view to taking it on for their own family. It is a great house. A fabulous location. Made for a family. Neither of us could justify taking it on really. It needs a family there. It needs to become a home I guess. We may have grown up there (both of us went through our secondary school years - at least) there). Technically it may be our house, but I suppose it’s no longer our home; however difficult it is. And it is.
In the meantime lots of books & CDs and whatnot have been taken to charity shops. Furniture, ceramics, and pictures have been sold, or given away, whilst Bits & Bobs are retained by the family; largely photos and all sorts of written bits have been put in boxes. I know I’ve taken too many of the books myself, including those I had as a kid (and two bookcases). The books that were mine when I was growing up in particular were very much of their time and I loved them, but many are dated and not really worth putting in a shop - or even me rereading. It’s really hard throwing away things (and I’ve always struggled with discarding - or selling - books). Outside of the books thing it is strange what gets left behind us and what means something/what doesn’t - and worse: what has been forgotten - who is that in these photographs? Are they friends or relatives of my parents or our grandparents? Should we know, or can we find out, and does it not matter? God, it is a strain.
Anyway we are getting there. At some point in the coming weeks I guess we’ll get an offer and we’ll say 'yes' perhaps and we’ll have to get a clearance guy in to sort out the detritus. Jeez. Deep breath. Relax.
Strange week. My sister and I have put my parent’s house up for sale. It’s been put off for a long time; mainly by the whole pandemic thing mashing our collective heads. It went on sale on Monday and there were viewings today and more programmed for the weekend. We have kind of half cleared the house but still need to get rid of some of the big furniture including the beds et al and all the silly stuff like cutlery and pots & pans (and whatever is in the shed). Will get a clearance company in to do that. Probably get a quote next week after this week of viewings come to an end.
It’s odd to think that today multiple strangers have been walking through our old front door, through the living room and kitchen, our bedrooms and our garden (let’s not say anything about the bathroom) with a view to taking it on for their own family. It is a great house. A fabulous location. Made for a family. Neither of us could justify taking it on really. It needs a family there. It needs to become a home I guess. We may have grown up there (both of us went through our secondary school years - at least) there). Technically it may be our house, but I suppose it’s no longer our home; however difficult it is. And it is.
In the meantime lots of books & CDs and whatnot have been taken to charity shops. Furniture, ceramics, and pictures have been sold, or given away, whilst Bits & Bobs are retained by the family; largely photos and all sorts of written bits have been put in boxes. I know I’ve taken too many of the books myself, including those I had as a kid (and two bookcases). The books that were mine when I was growing up in particular were very much of their time and I loved them, but many are dated and not really worth putting in a shop - or even me rereading. It’s really hard throwing away things (and I’ve always struggled with discarding - or selling - books). Outside of the books thing it is strange what gets left behind us and what means something/what doesn’t - and worse: what has been forgotten - who is that in these photographs? Are they friends or relatives of my parents or our grandparents? Should we know, or can we find out, and does it not matter? God, it is a strain.
Anyway we are getting there. At some point in the coming weeks I guess we’ll get an offer and we’ll say 'yes' perhaps and we’ll have to get a clearance guy in to sort out the detritus. Jeez. Deep breath. Relax.
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