Husband has gone off to an auction with the intention of buying a house.
Younger Son and Nuora have a deposit saved but as they're off to Malaysia they thought they'd like to invest and get on the property ladder so Husband suggested that we go part shares.
I went with him and Nuora to view two houses, very cheap houses and when we saw them we could see why: the sides were falling off. Although Husband and YS while he's here are capable and prepared to do some work this was really big builder territory.
Nuora and I though were slightly distracted during the viewing.
The house had been in the same family for many years and presumably the remaining family member had died. The house hadn't yet been cleared so while Husband was lifting up floorboards and peering behind wallpaper, Nuora and I were oohing and aahing over the lovely china in the glass-fronted alcove. And the piano.
We guessed that the last owner was a musical Welsh-speaking chapel-going woman from the piano, piles of sheet music and framed bible quote in Welsh hanging over the bed.
And the garden was full of fruit trees and bushes, not to mention an air raid shelter. Such a shame the house was falling apart.
But saddest of all was the clock on the piano, still ticking away and keeping good time. I'm with WH Auden on this: when death comes along by rights the world should stop. When I've been in a home affected by death it always comes as a surprise to go outside and find life is continuing as normal, as if your world hadn't just been destroyed, as if your loss matters not a jot.