Part 1
If you’ve been following my blog a while, you’ll know I love a good song, and this weeks “Blog Banger” comes to us courtesy of the 1980s hero of cheese, Shakin Stevens.
Too much to do justice in one blog alone, Part 1 of “This Ole House” focuses on the first two verses.
This old house once knew his children
Shakin’ Stevens – 1981
This old house once knew his wife
This old house was home and comfort
As they fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now he trembles in the darkness
When the lightning walks about
Have you ever wondered how many families have lived in that house of yours? How many trembling hands do you think have rattled the key to that unfamiliar lock for the first time, excited to get inside?
Every family has it’s fair share of happiness and sadness, but just imagine what the four walls you currently occupy have seen. The paint may have changed 100 different shades of badly applied magnolia, but underneath the top coat will lie a bit of that original paint, and depending on the age of that house it’s probably seen it all:
- It’s watched proposals, marriages, births, sickness, deaths, tears of sadness, and of joy.
- It’s seen hugs goodbye and kisses hello; a partner going to war and the joy of them returning, a partner returning from war, not returning quite the same
- It’s enjoyed the gleeful echos of children, games of hide and seek, and peekaboo, cats scratching stairs, the shouts of parents at felt tip pen and spilt milk on carpets.
- It’s heard words of love and laughter, music of all genres, girls nights in, sleep overs, afternoon BBQs, barking dogs.
- Its supported families through promotions, first days at school, last days at school, packed bags, carboard boxes and huge life changing decisions like;
“I’ve had enough, I’m pulling the plug.”
Your house has probably been witness to most, if not all, of these scenes of military family life passing through.
The house I’m in right now is old. It’s been on this earth approximately 70 years. Around 30-35 families will have opened and closed its doors for the first and last time.
That’s a lot of history.
My house shows me signs every day that it’s tired of its 70 years of service, with its dodgy roof tiles, guttering, drains and electrics. It’s a prime example of an “ole house.” But it’s warm, and it’s friendly, and it feels like home. I love this house. I’m lucky. But I haven’t always been.
For some, opening the door to your new ole house is an anticlimax, a disappointment. You wonder where you’re going to squeeze all that furniture and military kit you’ve acquired, no place for your L-shaped sofa and King-size bed; no wardrobe space, nowhere to store your towels. You’d buy new furniture to fit, knock down walls, and fix the plumbing if it was your house, but you can’t. The thought of spending money on stuff that may not fit the next place is too much, so you make do and manage, year after year.
For others, it’s a happy new beginning. “It’s much better than the last house”!!! “It’s got a bigger garden, better bedrooms, a shower that doesn’t leak, a watertight garage! You fall instantly in love with it until the realisation hits “it’s just as creaky and tired as the last one”. You either hate or tolerate its quirks. You accept that the sink will never drain away and the rain will always pour out of moss filled guttering like niagra falls.
You’ve spent weeks or months worrying what that new address will mean, and really, you have no control. The best you can do is scour the local unit Facebook groups searching innefectively for the previous occupant (or at least their best friend) to send you some pictures, to tell you how it really is. Sometimes you’re in luck, sometimes not.
It can make you feel sick when you see your new garden, fences broken, overlooked by 6 other houses, all with gigantic barking dogs. You rock back and forth in the corner of your damp new lounge whispering “take me home”. But this IS home and you have to make the best of it.
Have you ever considered how weird this housing situation actually is?
One day, you’re shopping in your local Tesco, buying a last-minute turkey and bottle of something fizzy. It’s Thursday night, and it’s the day before the day your partner starts their Christmas grant. The world is good and full of anticipation for festive happiness. Then they come home and announce…
“Posted in February… Start date 15th“.
This is your cue to:
Drop Turkey
Open Fizz.
Down it in one.
Don’t share.
Pop goes Christmas!
They dutifully go into work the following day with a slightly dull pain in the ear where you bent it all night worrying and venting your frustrations. They try to “start the paperwork,” but there’s no one there. Everyone, but for the few unfortunate christmas shift stragglers have gone “home” to start their party.
You are left lurching. You spend christmas stuffing random items into empty gift boxes, trying to feel useful and proactive. You now have to face 2 fallow weeks where no one is in the office. You KNOW what is coming. Post Christmas, you spend 2 weeks playing a game of “where’s wally” with the Assignment Order. Every day, they come home from work and shake their head. Your eye is twitching, your teeth are grinding, but there’s nothing you can do without that magical mythical number.
Eventually, with just 4 weeks to go before the new unit start date… it arrives.
THEN you can apply for a house. You’re moving in 4 weeks with 3 kids, to no address, with no school application and you have no idea when the removals will come; or how you’re getting your kids, parrot, goldfish two dogs and a cat in your small family car after your stuff has gone. You’ve still got 2 weeks notice to work, a march out clean to do, and you can’t arrange anything without that number or that address.
No address = stress.
FINALLY, that exciting day arrives! It’s housing offer day!!. They call you from work with a list of road names, and you spend the next 3 hours on Google earth stalking your new neighbourhood, taking the little google man down each street and gazing at prospective front doors. You’re trying to work out, which one is best. You’re looking for positives and negatives. You dont like any of them, but you HAVE to pick one. It’s like a rubbish tombola at a school summer fete where you pay for a ticket but you dont want the prize; you end up with one anyway.
The fact is, the first time you see that house will be the day you turn the key in the lock. Whether it be good or bad, you will live there. You will take the rough with the smooth, you’ll find a place for your stuff, even if it means boarding out a loft you’re not supposed to use. You’ll share your happiest and saddest times with those four walls, and you’ll live there knowing it’s probably not for long. You’ll never properly unpack.
The day you leave that house, you’ll feel mixed emotions, you can’t wait to go, you equally, dont want to leave. You take away your possessions and your memories, find an appropriate compartment in your brain for them, and make space for the new adventures to come. The fresh start. And all you can do is to hope that your new ole house looks after you, until it’s time for you to move on again.
TBC…
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