Number 31 – The first home____________________________________________________

‘It is body and soul. It is the human being’s first world. Before he is “cast into the world,” … man is laid in the cradle of the house… Life begins well, it begins enclosed, protected, all warm in the bosom of the “house’. (Bachelard, 1969)

I was able to step inside the home of my birth and childhood recently. It had come on the market for sale and I had a feeling that I may not get another chance to go inside, I often walk past the house but resist the urge to knock on the door and tell the proprietor how special this place is. On the day of the visit as I arrive the door is open and I just wander in. I look down at the terracotta tiled path and my school shoes come to mind. The last time I came here was the last time it was on the market over thirty years ago, it was fairly unchanged then, this time it felt different, somewhat neglected. The traditional arrangement is familiar to me, the tried and tested set up common for many dwellings in my city. I am aware of the many feet that have trodden up and down the hall to the kitchen and back, up and down the stairs to the bathroom and back. Not only my family but the long frocked ladies of the turn of the century who would have lived here proudly when the house was new. In the front room I reflect on a century of clocks in the centre of the mantles, and table lamps beside armchairs. The coving and ceiling rose remind me of lying on my back studying the shapes of the moulded plaster, I recall thinking it may be fruit or boobs which was amusing to me. I move around far quicker than I would like as I make small talk with the estate agent.