Henry and Marjorie had lived in ‘Strathmines’ for their entire married life – 63 years this coming May. Although his secondment to the RAF had ceased in August ’45, he did not receive his demob documents until the December. They had spent the summer inspecting modest terraces before stumbling upon the house of their dreams.
It was the garden that clinched it. Replete with dry-stone terraces, and scarlet geraniums tumbling from terracotta pots, it ran the full length of the northern wall supporting wild forsythia, native lilacs and espaliered sansanquas in a riot of colour and tangled branches. As one rounded the northern corner , the garden opened out to a whirl of manicured couch, fringed with trees laden with apricots, figs and almonds.
As they had nourished the garden, so the garden had nourished them. It broke their hearts to leave it, but both knew that the moment had arrived.