Memories

My family home is for sale. I lived here from the age of ten to nineteen. When we moved in it was a boring guesthouse. Over the years it's been worked on and turned into a beautiful place with a big heart. My mum is a fantastic home maker. I've been capturing some farewell snaps each time I'm there. I want to be able to show them to Jarvis and Queenie, to tell her about when she used to insist on people walking up and down the stairs with her, all three floors of them. About when we were younger and used to sit on the high fence at the back and call out to people walking by. About the way I decorated my room as a teenager, walls caked in paintings, torn-out editorials and Polaroids, a self indulgent shrine to my emotions and crushes. About that first summer we lived there and we'd sunbath on the little roof at the back of the house, giving each other henna tattoos and braiding our hair with beads.
This house has watched each of us grow from girls to women. The walls creak with secrets overheard. It holds many stories. First loves, broken hearts, fits of giggles, tears and rage. 14 Christmas' have passed, 98 birthdays, hundreds of bedroom swaps and sister sleepovers. Too many all-nighters before art deadlines (this house has seen some incredible patience and generosity from my parents!). One wedding, maybe two*. So.much.toast.. For breakfast, lunch and dinner, piles of it made for friends after school, hoards churned out after a night out, dripping with butter. The kitchen is the focal point of the home, a beautiful space with an AGA at the centre. Used for baking, roasting, toasting, drying, sitting, lingering. I grew accustomed to it's quirky ways and found adjusting to a conventional oven such a challenge!

One day I hope we can own an AGA for our family home. That I can create a space that our children love as much as I do this one. That holds good memories and grows with us, a home with a soul.

*India's getting married in September!!!