When i was twelve i was 2 years into my parents divorce, as it was an amicable one it meant that i had two houses. To me having two houses was difficult. Two sets of everything but at least i had my parents and my sister. Even if they weren’t together anymore!
When my father moved out he moved in with his friend in a tiny cottage in the middle of the Blackdowns in Somerset, England. The downside was he shared it with his friend and her vicious cats. On the upside my sister and i had our own room even if it was somewhat cramped. The downside i guess was having to pack a bag every other friday when we were off to Dads. Needless to say when we did visit we didn’t spend too much time in the house.
Annie – Dad’s friend – was a bit older than him and had been working with him for a very long time. Although she had never had children of her own but she tried her best to be nice to us and friendly (my Dad and Annie weren’t in a relationship as far as i had noticed) but it was not always difficult as she was a very strong independent woman with very little time for such things. We used to run from the cats when they were in the house, not wanting to risk being hissed at or jumped on. I dont think they liked having other people in their house which is understandable.
The house itself was a typical countryside curiosity. It looked a bit like a witches house, you know a bit twisted and dilapidated? It rested on the edge of some woods had an Aga and was freezing in the winter. All the things you would expect from a cottage in the middle of nowhere.
I wouldn’t say that this is a particularly happy place. However what i will say is that its no where near as bad as some of the other places i’ve lived.