The Knack

30 years in one house is a long time. I was 16 when my parents bought the place and I lived up in one of the large attic rooms on the second and top floor. Typically scorching in the summer although the single sash window could be carefully eased up in its frame for a welcome bit of ventilation. Under a veneer of crystal frost on the inner surface of the eggshell thin Victorian glass in the winter, the same sash was rattley and draughty in any inclement weather. 

It was however my own room and for the first time  in my life a space of my own after sharing with my younger brother in our previous house. It was furnished with Gran's old desk and a chair from a bank, a large sofa bed which may have come with the house, my single bed , some shelves, my childhood dresser and a large green painted metal trunk. This was my world and my possessions fitted in around me. In time I painted one of the walls in a graffitti style with the distinctive logo of The Jam and mod images. It was quite a popular attraction for visitors and my peers were quite envious that I had been allowed free rein by my parents to deface my room. My siblings also had their own rooms as it was a very large and old townhouse built in 1894. Next door to my room was my younger sister. My elder sister had a nice first floor room with a huge bay window overlooking the street and next to that but across the landing my two younger brothers started off sharing at ages 10 and 4 but the older of the two soon started to squat in a small and badly lit eaves room as was his rather unconventional style.

It was a pitiful room, not ever intended for human habitation. The inner partition wall was some 10 feet high but the underside of the roof slope swept down sharply to give the room a very pointy triangular profile. The only space with head clearance was from the partition to about half way across before it became stooping room only. I expect that Dick Whittington and his cat will have considered it to be palatial and luxurious from their own experiences but it was quite unhealthy and not a little bit claustrophobic.

My brother, however, loved the room and it became more of a visitor destination than my graffitti display mainly because of some very rude and lewd writings on the wall, newspaper cuttings from the New Musical Express and various slung and hung items. The only light and ventilation was from a small cast iron surround skylight that could be pushed up and secured on an concave metal strap with holes in in to marry to the opening in the roof. It was not even big enough to stick your head out for fresh air or cry for help if trapped.

 I left home for college two years after moving in and starting work after my 4 year course I had little actual time with the house as my sole residence. This was very much the case with my two sisters as we were only within a few years of each other at key stages in our education and adult lives.

 However, to my two brothers the house was a very major part of their upbringing and certainly a mainstay of stability and security in their formative years.

Theirs was a 1980's childhood which was remarkably different from my own in the preceeding decade. My plastic meccano set was archived in favour of the versatile and exciting Lego. I missed out on the rapid developments in electronic gaming and remain of that generation with no aptitude or patience for Donkey Kong, the Mario brothers or the many Legends of Zelda. The biggest difference was the arrival in our house of colour television, perhaps much later than our peers but quite a revolutionary thing in home entertainment. The battle between VHS and Betamax had been resolved and my brothers were there to enjoy the benefits. There were also great strides forward in audio with the Walkman for cassettes and then the portable CD player.

It was exciting just trying to anticipate what would be the next big thing in gadgetry. Gradually the toys and games from my teenage years were placed up in the attic store room to make way for the next generation. In the passage of time my brothers also left home to go to college and employment. The top floor rooms remained full of the accumulated belongings of the five of us. From time to time we would be asked if we could take some of the things to our own homes as part of a gradual thinning out of possessions.

It was just this week that I called in on Mother at the longstanding family house. 30 years of memories are being stirred up and evoking many strong emotions as it has come the time to move to a new place. Every thing in every room has a back-story so it is very wrenching and difficult to decide on what to take and what to let go. Mother has been most practical. We filled one of the largest skips recently with the contents of the cellar. Charities and those setting up home have benefitted from the donation and sale of many useful domestic items. There is a lot more still to do but all the family will participate in some way and by doing so will be immersed in a great wealth of fond feelings. There is a certain time capsule element involved. In the triangular attic room I came across a box of transistor radios from the 1980's. These will have been in constant use by my brothers in their teenage years. One of them, a bulky walkie talkie type style caught my attention. I extracted and extended the 1m long aerial and clicked on the operating switch and volume control. Amazingly it was working. I dragged the tuner along through static and short wave. I did not expect anything but towards the end of the dial display there was loud and raucous music. It was My Sharona by The Knack. It was as though the radio had been hibernating for the last 30 or so years and was announcing its return into the life of our family.