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| Outside 16 Chemin de Millieux, Collonge Belle Rive |
August, but after 25 hours of flying, puppy dog levels of excitement and much walking, sentence formation was too much and I gave up after writing the title.
The photo on the left is me, standing before the gate post of the house I lived in for a year when I was three. I hadn't seen it for 40 years, save for a drive-by in the late nineties. Memory is a tricky thing. I have often though about the house and remembered a high stone wall. When mum and dad first brought me and my siblings to the house on reconnaissance, dad lifted me up, as I could see nothing but this:
So, I was bemused to see yesterday the house is surrounded by an obviously very old green wrought-iron fence. The house itself hasn't changed a bit since 1973, nor the garden and I remembered happy snippets of sitting on sun-warmed grass amongst dandelions, picking tiny wood strawberries and eating them; looking out of my bedroom window to a white, snow covered garden, complete with my brother, Michael, making a snow-man; biting into a ripe plum from an old plum tree, only to see a huge worm wriggling around.
I couldn't get a good shot of the front of the house, as it is obscured by trees, but here is the back.
We caught the bus back to Geneva and spent some time absorbing the austere grandeur of St Pierre Cathedral and wandering the streets of the old town.
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