We moved from our old house twelve years ago. I was three 
at the time, so most of my memories of the place are a 
little faded, although some things stick out vividly in my 
memory. My old home was a bungalow in a quite back street . 
It had a fair-sized garden, which sprouted two or three 
trees, and in which I spent most of my waking moments 
happily romping around. Grass took up most of the ground 
space, and I still remember the lovely small of fresh grass-
mowings on a hot summer evening.

The bungalow itself was rather small, having only two 
bedrooms, and was rather primitive and aged. One or two of 
the floorboards were loose or broken, and mice were 
frequently seen popping in and out of holes in the skirting-
board. I remember my mother once chasing one terrified 
creature round the dining-room with a poker in her hand. 
There was one pantry in the cramped kitchen, and no 
cupboards. A battered boiler in one corner puffed and 
wheezed through the night, in an effort to provide hot 
water for the frequently-bursting pipes. Little wonder that 
when the offer of a new house on the new council estate was 
made, we readily accepted. The one thing I remember of our 
house-moving is being pushed across a bumpy field on a 
windy August day, with a bowl containing two scared 
goldfish on my knees, from which I was continually being 
soaked after every jolt of the push-chair.

The first delight of our new house was the stairs. I ran 
noisily up and down them before the carpet was laid, making 
a terrible row and getting in everybody's way. The garden 
is rather tidy and has no trees, and when we moved in, had 
no grass down. I made myself very muddy digging holes and 
tunnels in the bare earth.It was some years before my 
father got round to laying  grass, and before he did, I 
buried a treasure box containing foreign coins, my name, 
and other assorted bits and pieces, several feet down in a 
now-forgotten spot. One day--who knows? it might be worth a 
fortune.

Compared with the little bungalow, the house seemed 
enormous. For the first time, my much-older sister no 
longer shared my bedroom, a thing we were both glad of. The 
kitchen is fitted out with nine cupboards and four drawers, 
which my mother thought she would never be able to fill. An 
efficient boiler stands proudly in a recess, with hardly a 
sound, and provides nice hot water for a bath or washing. 
The house is comparatively draught-free, and is heated by 
built-in radiant fires. Now my sister is married, however, 
my mother and father are looking for a small two-bedroomed 
bungalow with a fair-sized garden in a quite back-street .