Dear 71 Parkside Road,
You are my house. Or the house I grew up in at any rate. Last year I decided to start writing letters to all of my heroes, but it isn’t last year anymore, is it 71 Parkside Road? And so, with the New Year, comes a new angle. The old expression goes ‘if these walls could speak…’, which got me thinking, could they also write letters? And that is why I am writing to you! All of my letters, and any replies I receive, will be posted at http://heroesofmine.blogspot.com.
I thought you might like to know that I remember you fondly and often think of you. When you last saw me I was a mere lad of eleven, so you may be surprised to learn that with each year that has passed since our parting, I have aged – that is unless you have a gift for maths not normally attributed to your creed (houses).
I am now twenty-four years old, and sometimes I think that I would quite like to visit you again to see if I would feel like a giant. I refer, of course, to the fact that I am also now much bigger than I was when I lived in you. Fear not, this is a normal part of the aging process and in fact I write to you in rude health.
But anyway, enough about me, how are you?!? Do you still have fishes painted on your bathroom walls? And do you still have the garden gate my granddad made out front? Does my bedroom miss me? Do you remember the time I was trying to answer the phone, but the receiver wouldn’t budge and in my confusion I shouted out “The stone’s fuck!”, instead of “The phone’s stuck!” So many questions! So many memories!
I also want to use this letter as an opportunity to apologise for some of the misdemeanours I committed whilst you were my house. I am sure there are many I have forgotten, but there is one in particular I wish to ‘fess up’ to. This one time, in the midst of a sibling-war with my sister, I unleashed a whole canister of fart spray on her bedroom door. In retrospect I realise I was using the door, a door which belonged to you, to facilitate my desire for revenge. This was a childish, unfair act to carry out on that sweet, innocent door and I can only apologise.
I do hope that you will not hold this against me, and that instead you will remember all the good times. Should it turn out that walls can in fact write letters, I look forward to reading your reply. Call me naïve, but after seeing what walls are truly capable of in that Harry Potter documentary, I am quietly confident I will hear from you soon enough.
Until then, all the best house,
Your Friend,
