This is the sound of the suburbs

I am feeling a bit dazed and confused after spending the best part of three working days walking the streets. Times is hard but not so as to warrant my participation in the actual definition of streetwalking.

The reason for my mixing with the general public on the highways and by-ways has been part of my inspection of just short of 100 houses in the city.

I am a bit dazed because I have not walked that far for some time, at least not fully clothed, and a bit confused because, not being house-ist, they all looked the same. That is not that unusual in that the majority of the ton of bricks and mortar were in quite a close geographical area having formed part of the very extensive expansion of the city between the wars.

The long rows of low 2 storey terraced houses, just about two rooms up and two down must have seemed like paradise to those formerly residing in the smog and damp quarters of the central part of town. This will have been reinforced by the lush green surroundings of tree lined streets and proper gardens rather than a dismal outlook onto forecourt and spartan back yard.

There was space to breathe in the suburbs although the inevitable trade-off for a healthier existence was a much smaller living space compared to the rambling late Victorian town houses of former occupation.

This did not appear to constitute a problem and families flocked to the new housing in droves. The first residents were tenants of the speculative builders and landlords behind the development. The money men may even have owned and run the insanitary slums and just relocated their dependants.

Amongst the near century of properties a reasonable proportion were still tenanted and on a longstanding and Protected basis. The residents who came out and challenged me for loitering and taking a photograph of their dwelling place were happy to chat once they had established that I was pretty harmless. Many had lived there for 30 to 50 and more years and recalled the days of the old rent collector passing from door to door on payment day and the occasional visit by the landlord himself checking up on his tenants and dealing with any arrears or problems.

The longstanding tenants had really looked after their rented houses and I soon got to equate a very well tended front garden, clipped lawns, tilled borders and watered shrubs and flowers with such occupants. The younger tenants, evidently transient and looking for the next place to live, had no time or inclination to keep the frontages clean and tidy. Long grass and dock leaves thrived from the neglect and the likelihood of the complete absence of a lawnmower. Similarly the rear gardens of the conscientious older tenants were well laid out, lawned, paved, pebbled and many with a very productive allotment type vegetable plot.

The weather on Day one of my task was a scorcher and I regretted being out in the open in my business suit. A man crawling out from the underside of a car on a ramp at the back of one of the terraced blocks remarked that I should have been wearing a hat in such a heatwave. I must have looked hot and bothered but laughed and made some joke about putting sun screen on my bald patch.

The very similar appearance of the group of 22 properties on the first road could be countered by making sure that the individual photos included the house number or, if not displayed, some other identifying feature. This would assist in the allocating of the pictures to the correct address. I noted down a few of the distinguishing features which would be in the shot when downloaded back at the office. Ornamental wheelbarrow with pansies, unruly leylandii shrub, gnomes in conference, a discarded fridge, assorted car parts, wheelie bins, soiled nappies and rusty bicycles were popular landscaping items.

I also had to find a way to get around to the back of the houses to get an idea if they were of original footprint or had been extended. My choice of features was equally diverse from asbestos garages in a multitude of faded colours, a gazebo, childrens' trampoline, rabbit hutch, loose rabid dogs, large radio antennae, caravans and a few parked cars.

It was interesting that the majority of the houses were as built and had not been extended apart from some ramshackle timber and felt boarded verandahs. These were still essential where the only toilet was technically outside and a midnight urge for a wee could be conducted without getting rained on. It will have been a momentous day for the tenants when a WC was established in the small upstairs bathroom and the old compartment could be knocked out to form a little more space in the kitchen. The luxury of an indoor and elevated toilet did come at a price though. The dividing wall had to be moved three feet over from the window to accommodate the cistern and pan which reduced the already cramped dimensions of bedroom 2. Even after this alteration there was only enough space to take an undersized bath, dismissing any notions of a romantic shared bathing experience without risking throwing out a hip joint.

Day two was overcast and drizzly. A bit more comfortable for the next tranche of 40 houses but still a bit mesmerising and somehow a bit deja vu. I had moved only about 100 metres into the next street, an oval arrangement of yet more terraces. My mode of inspection was now well practiced. Check address, take photo, explain to the curious resident what I was doing, move on to the next. My progress up the road was still slow and laboured but I was ticking off the schedule which was encouraging.

Day three. More of the same, hot weather again, and made confusing by a row of six houses amongst the remaining thirty plus, all adjoining which were empty and had to be internally inspected using a huge bunch of keys, poorly labelled and intertwined.

There is a specific name, even a law or scientific principal that dictates that out of 50 keys pushed into a Yale lock it will be the last one that is the correct one.

If I had found the exteriors very samey then the interiors were even more so.

A job lot of magnolia emulsion must have been delivered in a road tanker to the street and pumped into each house. The Artex mines of wherever must have had a boom period about 20 years ago given its extensive use on every horizontal surface above head height. The kitchens and bathrooms has also been sourced and no doubt with a significant discount for bulk purchase. Devoid of any furnishings and home comforts I could have got away with just duplicating one set of photos instead of the 30 taken.

Three days felt like a lifetime. I was trapped in a 1930's streetscene. As I turned over my list of addresses I realised that I had completed the job. Unfortunately, I had forgotten where I had parked the car and it took a complete backtracking as though on a fast rewind of the last 72 hours to locate it and make my escape back to the present day. I wept upon seeing a bungalow.