I was having wandering thoughts on the way back from Daylesford yesterday. I saw a sign post for a lane, the name of which was the surname of the family that lived next door to us when I was a child.
They were really nice neighbours, the woman was a painter and she had many oil paintings, too many for the walls of their home so she leant some out to hang on other peoples walls. Our parents had one on their bedroom wall, a naked woman reclining, in a style reminiscent of another time
One evening a tragedy occurred...their house burned down. It was very dramatic at the time, fire engines, a red night sky, spectators and stern intructions from our father to 3 frightened girls to 'stay inside'. Their little dog, a yorkshire terrier had alerted them to the fire, saving their lives but not their belongings. After that they moved away, they didn't rebuild and she took back her loaner paintings. We were really sad to see them go, another family built a much bigger (uglier) house on the block, they didn't speak English and pretty much kept to themselves so the dynamic altered greatly.
I wonder what became of their family after that. These are the things you think of on long drives.
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