Nameless

I've probably never mentioned that our house is officially called 'The Croft'. It was given this title in 1961 by the previous owners, who I believe moved here from the Home Counties and bought the plot of land from the builder. They rented a house nearby while this one was being built - we have the original architect's drawings and alternative designs they didn't choose, one of which I wish they had.

For some reason, the drawings were hand painted in watercolours and featured an abundance of blue skies, which no doubt foxed the original owners into making the move north. We all know the architect was being economical with the truth because the skies here are grey. Perhaps he also told them it was enclosed by pastures and roaming with sheep, which is the only explanation I can think of for them calling it 'The Croft.' We even inherited a cast iron address stamp for our letterheads.

Anyway, it isn't a bloody 'croft', it's a sixties palace. I've toyed with the idea of officially renaming the house but it seems slightly pretentious in the circumstances - my nan would be turning in her grave at the idea of me living on the posh side of town in the first place (advising throughout my childhood that folk in this neighbourhood were 'all fur coat and no knickers'), I think she'd send a thunderbolt if I gave our house a name.

I think the house will remain nameless. It'll be number 2.