[garinda]

Moving to London in the eighties, I never thought I'd be able to afford my own home.

Thanks to the property slump in the early nineties, and then my boss amazingly doubling my salary, because he was so pleased I'd got Princess Diana as a client, I was thriilled when I managed to buy a little garden flat in south London.

Oh I was so happy there. It'd be nice sharing a house, with a family friend, but it was so nice to have my own little nest.

Years later in Glasgow I bought a swanky, new, west end/city centre flat. Luxurious, modern, minimalist in design, but never really me.

Now I live in a traditional Lancashire terraced house, tucked away, on an unadopted street, over looking a nature reserve. I can sit in bed and watch the heron on it's little island, and being able to see nature, affected by the seasons, is a real treat.

This is where I'm meant to be, and I've never been happier.

Now I know that a stair lift can go on the very steep stairs, I shall live here until I'm carried out in a box.

It is my ideal home.