After I wrote my earlier post, I walked into a bunch of neighbours who had been in contact with the excitement in the field. It turns out that the local council is taking soil samples and making soundings with a view to the construction of “social housing’ so yep, that’s the value of my place gonna fall by a third! From quiet, holiday homes and older residents, to a neighbourhood of kids, footballs kicked around the parked cars, dogs running free to shit on the pavements. We already have a parking problem: five places for nine apartments, which kinda works because not everybody wants or has a car. Throw in new buildings…
I should have sold immediately after my wife died, and looked for a life somewhere else. I’d vaguely thought of Rome, but probably a lot more crime, and any place I could buy wouldn’t have been up to much. A return to Scotland would have felt like a personal defeat. I would probably have shed my mortal coil a long time ago. Mum always used to say: the cold kills the old!
I guess that pretty much indicates that the family presence here ends with me.
Kinda sad, when you think that the philosophy had always been to leave your world a little bit better for your next in liners than you’d maybe found it. Oh well, an old Nikon F3 (with box!), hardly used from new, should be worth a cup of coffee.