I was passing my former house in an old neighbourhood yesterday and, acting on impulse, decided to 'catch a swatch' at the back garden. I was saddened to see that the clothes poles and lawn were gone, and that the garden had been re-slabbed to cover the whole area. It was a bit of a shock as the last time I'd seen it, it was pretty much as it had been in my day.
I'm glad I'd managed to get photographs of the garden back in 1988 and again in 1991, and preserved it as it used to be in the halcyon days of my childhood. For 20-odd years after we'd flitted, the house and gardens (front and back) had remained mostly as I recalled them, but since then several significant changes have been made, and things as I'd known them are now a mere echo in the hallowed halls of history.
If I were ever to win the Lottery, I'd buy every house in which I've ever lived and restore them as much as possible to their former glory. In a completely self-indulgent wallow in nostalgia, I thought I'd take another walk around my old garden and permit you to accompany me. It wasn't much, but it was mine - and shall forever remain so in the mystic bands of memory. Now, follow me - the past is this way.