With the news filled with reports about all the new homes being built around the country, so many often square and soulless buildings, I was delighted when my husband and I recently spent a lovely day in an enchanting historic town that we have not visited for many years. Rye in Sussex is filled with ancient buildings, all so beautifully maintained and we love wandering about the cobblestone streets, our favourite is the historic Mermaid Street.with buildings from the 15th – 17th Century. We walked from the rear of timber framed Mermaid Inn through Mermaid Passage, a little cobbled passage that runs uphill from The Mint, through the Mermaid Inn's yard and archway, into Mermaid Street. I revelled in viewing wonderfully named ‘old friends’ such as 'The House Opposite', just across from The Mermaid Inn and others with equally unusual names such as 'The house with two doors' and 'The house with the seat'. Most of these timber-framed buildings are either Tudor or Medieval in origin and filled with a sense of history and belonging.
House names have always intrigued me, but Alan finds great dismay in those that are so often seen ~ where I am prone to wonder about the lives, past and present of those who live there now and others who were resident in the past, he visibly cringes at those that carry names such as ‘dun roamin’ and ‘sea view’ (why ARE these cottages so often miles from the sea!). He finds the homes with their unique names that grace Mermaid Street a great relief and does not offer any negative comments which is always pleasing (oh, dear, sounds like a Victor Meldrew or ‘Grumpy Old Man’ reference and although I admit that as a young man he was often teased about sounding like Victor from ‘One Foot In The Grave’ he has definitely mellowed with age. Morgan and I like to think it is our charming influence and unwillingness, over time to rise to the bait.
In a way, my curiosity about houses and those to whom they are known as home (oh dear, is ‘nosy’ a more apt word? I hope not!) is similar to the reaction I have when I am at an airport or train station. I am always filled with interest as I watch those ready to depart and wonder to myself (some things are definitely best left unsaid) about the reason for their journey and hoping they are off for some wonderfully romantic adventure. Clearly you can see that we are a case of ‘opposites attract’ but thankfully it has worked quite well over our many years together – he has mellowed and I no longer go through life will rose-coloured glasses ~ okay, at least SOME of the time they are removed.
After twenty-eight years of travel and living between England and America, we have spent more time than most in airport terminals (our daughter’s first passport has a photograph of her at the age of 10 weeks – yes, sentimental as I am and have already described, I save all of our expired passports and with dual citizenship I admit that does add up to quite a few). I never tire of the opportunity to wonder about the other travellers I encounter and can sit happily for hours watching individuals and the world pass by before me. However, being a product of two very different parents and although definitely her own unique person, our daughter is like her father in many ways. As a result, to continue to enjoy family travel when we were all still journeying around the world together, I had to become quite clever in finding ways to ensure that my flights were still the same wonderful experiences I had always found them to be. My daughter and her father delight in making discreet comments about the other passengers to pass the time (definitely not romantic wonderings about their journeys); especially on the very long flights we had during our years of living between California and England. In the end to enable myself to continue my pleasure in flying during family trips, I would always reserve two seats together for them and a separate one for myself just a couple of rows ahead to avoid suspicion. It was several years before I was caught and they realized that my excuse about my inability to find three seats together was unfounded (in the end it was an almost entirely empty flight that left my totally defenceless!). Oh well, it never hurts to be forced to use one’s imagination to come up with new ideas . . .
House names have always intrigued me, but Alan finds great dismay in those that are so often seen ~ where I am prone to wonder about the lives, past and present of those who live there now and others who were resident in the past, he visibly cringes at those that carry names such as ‘dun roamin’ and ‘sea view’ (why ARE these cottages so often miles from the sea!). He finds the homes with their unique names that grace Mermaid Street a great relief and does not offer any negative comments which is always pleasing (oh, dear, sounds like a Victor Meldrew or ‘Grumpy Old Man’ reference and although I admit that as a young man he was often teased about sounding like Victor from ‘One Foot In The Grave’ he has definitely mellowed with age. Morgan and I like to think it is our charming influence and unwillingness, over time to rise to the bait.
In a way, my curiosity about houses and those to whom they are known as home (oh dear, is ‘nosy’ a more apt word? I hope not!) is similar to the reaction I have when I am at an airport or train station. I am always filled with interest as I watch those ready to depart and wonder to myself (some things are definitely best left unsaid) about the reason for their journey and hoping they are off for some wonderfully romantic adventure. Clearly you can see that we are a case of ‘opposites attract’ but thankfully it has worked quite well over our many years together – he has mellowed and I no longer go through life will rose-coloured glasses ~ okay, at least SOME of the time they are removed.
After twenty-eight years of travel and living between England and America, we have spent more time than most in airport terminals (our daughter’s first passport has a photograph of her at the age of 10 weeks – yes, sentimental as I am and have already described, I save all of our expired passports and with dual citizenship I admit that does add up to quite a few). I never tire of the opportunity to wonder about the other travellers I encounter and can sit happily for hours watching individuals and the world pass by before me. However, being a product of two very different parents and although definitely her own unique person, our daughter is like her father in many ways. As a result, to continue to enjoy family travel when we were all still journeying around the world together, I had to become quite clever in finding ways to ensure that my flights were still the same wonderful experiences I had always found them to be. My daughter and her father delight in making discreet comments about the other passengers to pass the time (definitely not romantic wonderings about their journeys); especially on the very long flights we had during our years of living between California and England. In the end to enable myself to continue my pleasure in flying during family trips, I would always reserve two seats together for them and a separate one for myself just a couple of rows ahead to avoid suspicion. It was several years before I was caught and they realized that my excuse about my inability to find three seats together was unfounded (in the end it was an almost entirely empty flight that left my totally defenceless!). Oh well, it never hurts to be forced to use one’s imagination to come up with new ideas . . .
1 comment:
Like you I love old houses and old names - so much more descriptive than their more modern sisters. On my travels around family friendly houses for my clients recently I have noticed properties revelling in the delightful names of Mickmar (Mick and Margaret's place)Jacinda (Jack and Linda's) and, my particular favourite Geradeleine (presumably Gerald and Madeleine).
In fact it's quite fashionable to follow this pattern when naming your children apparently. When Sarah was born the midwife muttered that it was "a blessed relief after what the last one was called". We can only guess at what the poor child had been lumbered with.
I have spent many happy hours wandering around our previous village where roads are simply called The Walk, The Street, The Common, The Star(named after the old coaching inn which has disappeared and Ham Green. Noone's sure whether the latter is because it is shaped like a ham or that pigs were kept there.....but it's lovely to wonder and to feel a connection to the past.
C x
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