Saturday 31 August 2024

Why we moved to Wales III

 


We drove up the steep zig-zag hill, and on the bend was a farm and the farmhouse, looking grey rather than white in the rain, which was falling steadily (the shape of things to come!) and here was the house we had fallen in love with . . . on paper at any rate.

The farmer met us and told us to go on in and look around for ourselves, but to make sure we shut the gate, as there were calves grazing in the . . . "garden".   A wide Georgian glazed door led into a wide long hall tiled with black, red and primrose yellow tiles.  To the left, a narrow Victorian panelled door led into a big kitchen.  What colour the stick-on floor tiles were was hard to see as they were just lighter and dark, and covered in what we could only (rightly as it turned out) assume was cow muck.  The "chap who milked" was currently living in just two downstairs rooms, this and the sitting room.  It was dark and gloomy.  A bay window shed diffused light at one end and very much smaller window looked across the yard.  Washer-uppers had an uncompromising view of the back wall.  Mouse-droppings were across all the work-surfaces which were extremely dated and needed replacing.  A once-beamed ceiling was covered completely with pine tongue-and-groove panelling.  The fireplace was bricked up and a tacky-looking stove sat out into the room.  A little door led off into a storage area.



The sitting room opposite was even worse.  A truly awful wallpaper was clinging damply to the walls - the sort that is the cheapest you can buy even in a DIY store sale.  The sort that makes you want to leave home to avoid it!  A beige-tiled 1940s fireplace hid the original blocked-up one.  Black and red quarry tiles provided the flooring.  Once again, the beams were covered in tongue-and-groove - this, we were to discover - was a feature throughout the house dating from the 1970s "modernisation".  

Back in the hallway, one side led into a small cloakroom, then a solid door on a Suffolk latch opened onto a . . . space.  You could hardly call it a room although it had a window at the back - which reached right up to the cat-slide roof.  It had obviously been tacked onto the earlier building and the original doorway into the room next door had been blocked up perhaps two centuries earlier.  This "room next door" was enormous - 16 feet square - with a huge window taking up half of the wall space on one side, and overlooking the paddock with its tall apple tree (a "Leatherjacket" Russet).  There was dentil freeze moulding around the room, obvious damp in the fireplace wall, and the greying magnolia paint did nothing for the room.  However, where the doorway had been blocked up, was a big arch-topped recess which added to the character of the room.

The old "Leatherjacket" Russet apple tree in the paddock.

There was a "below the room next door" too.  We walked down to find two ruined rooms and an even more ruinous staircase which had been blocked by the cloakroom.  A vast inglenook fireplace and bread oven,  with a brick arch above it was in the kitchen.  There were flagstones on the floor, and it was filthy and festooned with cobwebs and dirt.  Next door was a room with an ancient cobbled floor and blocked-in windows.  We could just make out the shapes of shallow slate dairy troughs.  The doors were rotten at the bottom and hanging on their hinges, but here the huge beams had been left alone . . . to rot and to provide homes for Death Watch beetle and woodworm.  We looked out into the yard, where there was a row of 3 calf sheds, an old cart shed with pigsties behind it, and another lean-to building beside it.  The old Ty Bach can be seen in the photo below - in use until the 1970s when a loo and bathroom were put in the house.


The yard, with the remains of the little Ty Bach (outside toilet, across the stream) and on the right, the Dairy which became mum's flat.  

Up the wide shallow Georgian stairs were four bedrooms and a door that opened onto a little storage platform beneath the cat-slide roof, and over the void below which was the non-room. We were intrigued to find the skirting boards had the tops of baked bean tins tacked onto them at intervals . . .  All fireplaces had been blocked up.  All beams covered in tongue-and-groove. 

The bathroom was uncompromisingly slurry green, from walls to bathroom suite.  It was akin to walking into a silage clamp . . .

Another door on a Suffolk latch led to more stairs (and more spiders,  festoons of filthy cobwebs) to the rotting flooring of what had once been the attic where the farm servants lived.  Several of the rooms, we noticed, had chains on - just a couple of links, so from the outside you could lock them with a bar going through.  Strange . . .

Outside, we looked at the land through curtains of rain.  The field behind the house had a fair slope to it, but was still quite good grazing, and had a belt of woodland in one corner.  With a small daughter in tow (she wasn't even a year old then) we decided not to explore further. There was a shared water supply located . . . "in the field behind the house" . . .  There should have been alarm bells ringing but they were silent.


The "garden" as it was in 1988 . . .


We should, of course, have walked away, smelling the damp, noticing the woodworm, the need to re-roof, replace doors and rotting windows, reinstate derelict rooms, and having a reality check when we saw just how much work there was to do to bring it back from the brink.  How much MONEY needed to be spent. But of course, we didn't.  We drove straight up the hill to see the farmer and offered him the full asking price (were we MAD?!!!!)  He accepted our offer.  We drove home.  We didn't even have a second viewing.  Then suddenly TWO people wanted to buy our house and before we had a chance to have cold feet or even misgivings, we found it was all systems go on moving to Wales.  I think you can honestly say - it was MEANT TO BE . . .  We stayed for 32 years.

                                        *            *          *

The family have all gone home now.  Yesterday was a bitty day, trying to sort out Official Paperwork (which I loathe - Keith always dealt with that but now I am stuck with it).  I had to phone the Bank as I couldn't get in to check our joint account and to cut a long story short, had to take all sorts of ID to the bank in Brecon.  We arrived 5 mins before closing, having thought it was open until 4.30, not 3.30.  According to the helpful lady dealing with us, my joint bank account card had been cancelled last year. REALLY?  It was news to me.  I should have been sent a new one, but obviously that never reached me - or was never sent.  No wonder I couldn't access the accounts.  So, all that way for nothing.  She got another card issued but won't be able to get the number until Monday, so I have to go back then. There is a travelling "Percy" Natwest van which comes to the Co-op ca park every other Monday.  It will not be THIS Monday of course!  I was hoping to get the worrying demands for money out of the way soonest, but clearly this won't be happening. I can't send my completed form back to the Army Pensions people until I get a copy of the Death Certificate authenticated (fortunately the Bank can do it), so that will have to wait until Monday too.  I haven't helped matters by losing our copy of the Will.  I sent a copy to Tam, and then obviously tidied it away somewhere so safe it is going to mean a morning's searching to relocate it.  I got nowhere with that search yesterday. 

When I sat down last night I looked across at Keith's ashes, and the memories flooded back and I cried and cried.  It's the last few days I can't get out of my head, and it's so hard to live with that.  Last night I watched several videos from Kate at The Last Homely House, which are soothing, then the 2nd episode of Celebrity Race Around the World (not that I recognize any of the celebrities). That's why I try to keep busy.  There have been more tears this morning, intense grief of the howling kind.  It's like disappearing down a vortex.  I need distraction so I think Edward Rutherford's The Forest will be back on shortly.  I'm greatly enjoying that. 

Today I need to bake a cake (Rhubarb and Custard it will be) as I have a friend coming to visit tomorrow.  I had better do some housework too.  As it's not very warm, and I don't want to waste heating oil yet, I may do some ironing to warm me up.  

I need to advertise Keith's expensive wheelchair on Facebook Marketplace without somehow announcing it IS a wheelchair as apparently that infringes their safety parameters.  That should be fun.  I also need to advertise his Mobility Scooter, and both sets of ramps (one set we used internally).  I am a devil for "putting things off" and really MUST step up to the mark with these today.

The gloomy weather outside reflects my mood.





9 comments:

  1. I feel your pain - those early days are etched forever into my memory. I was so afraid that the attached neighbours (I live in a 200 year old terraced cottage) would hear my howling and come banging on the door to check on me. I hope it will give you some comfort that I am approaching the 2 year anniversary and those howling episodes have all but vanished. I have the occasional weep when talking about him and I think that may remain the case, but that's ok. Go with it and it will pass. xx

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  2. Oh dear, admin of the financial sort is not my favourite either. My only advice is to deal with it when you are fresh and rested which for me is always first thing. If you are looking for a ‘home’ for savings may I recommend National Savings and Investments or NS&I. Govt owned your money will be safe and they pay very good internet rates. You can either tie money up for a year or two in a higher interest saving bond or have the interest (a lower rate) paid monthly into your bank account. I’ve organised a combination of the two as we only have S’s state pension. We also have SIPPS (self-invested personal pensions) but have been advised not to touch those yet as pensions fall outside of inheritance tax so these are invested and hopefully continuing to grow. We should be ok - unless S has to go into a care home for 10 years. The fees around here are astronomical and I would do everything in my power to keep him safe at home. I honestly think the howling grief is an essential part of the grieving process so weep and wail as much as you like. No one could have done more than you BB. You went beyond the call of duty time and time again. But I do know that accepting the death of a lifetime partner is hard. My dad was devastated after my mum died and his reaction was so unexpected. She was admitted to hospital and chose to be nil by mouth according to her written statement and the hospital respected that. She had been a nurse so she completely understood the dying process and what she was doing. But my dad thought the hospital should have kept her alive so she could return home. It was a hard time. It’s been gently raining here but has stopped now and there is a vintage steam rally happening locally that we are going to. I love a good ‘steam up’ and this one is in aid of Macmillan nurses and is being hosted by a farm in a very pretty hamlet where we nearly bought a house in 2014. We lost out on that one and were so disappointed that on the rebound we made a mistake and bought a tiny cottage as a weekend escape. That ‘mistake’ lived with me a long time but now I realise that everyone makes mistakes and that as long as you learn from them it is ok. I feel so lucky to be here and although I moan about the housework and garden work I know it does me good and last night as we sat at the kitchen table eating our homegrown homemade delicious supper (courgette, potato and shallot frittata with tomato, basil and buffalo mozzarella salad) and looking out over the ‘golden hour’ garden and our beautiful south-westerly views, sheep baa-ing in the background, birdsong filling the air, we both said we couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I bought myself a posh lipstick from Space NK yesterday. I just thought why not and it is true that these small treats really do lift one’s mood. Take care BB. You are doing great. Sarah x

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  3. You paint wonderful pictures with your words. You really should consider writing a book. Really, I am not joking.
    I think many of us now live with the difficult memories of "the last few days" firmly entrenched in our minds. I doubt I will ever shake them off, or come to terms with them. It's the price we pay for not only loving them but for caring more than anything. At least we were not denied the privilege of being by their sides as they moved into whatever lies beyond the veil.

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  4. I am in awe of how you took on a house in that condition. It does sound rather magical though, despite the cow muck and woodworm.
    The official paperwork rigmarole is a PITA, especially since it has to be dealt with when your head is all over the place. Deal with it when you can, howl when you feel like it and remember the good times, as well as the trauma of Keith's last few days. x

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  5. Love the description of the house before you started work on it.

    I have sad memories of Colin's last days, I really thought he would be given antibiotics and then home again as before. I worry that I didn't know that wasn't going to happen so didn't spend as many hours at the hospital as I should have done. Too late now but very sad.

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  6. I think that both the howling grief and the inability to shake the memory of the last days are a completely natural part of the grieving process. I relive my last conversation with my beloved Grandad still...six years on...and I still get sidelined by unexpected waves of sorrow, seemingly out of nowhere. I can't imagine how much more intense it must be having lost a partner. Offer yourself boatloads of compassion and grace...you're doing your best, always.~ Melanie xo ps. still voting for that book...you write so evocatively and I'm excited to learn more about that wonderful house. :)

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  7. The alarm bells don't ring when your heart finds the perfect place do they. I hope your weekend becomes more peaceful. xx

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  8. Just Hugs across the water.

    God bless.

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  9. It was a house waiting to be rescued..and you both did it proud.

    Paperwork is a pain.

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