Broken home

December 10th, 2020

Fifty years ago today my late father left the house he had designed and built in 1961, never to return. His marriage had broken down irretrievably and he had setup home in Cambridge with a forceful social climber who preferred an architect to her then travelling salesmen husband. The fallout from his decision has echoed down the decades leaving chaos in its wake and damaging many lives.

Ten years earlier he had bought a plot in a village outside Cambridge, together with a fellow architect and between them they had designed a pair of linked houses, with long gardens leading down to a stream. Such was the bucolic environment in which I spent a happy 1960s childhood surrounded by opportunities for play.

One day this may or may not form the basis of a autobiography but I cannot let the day pass unremarked.