House history

We are so lucky to have been given a few pictures of our house which were taken many years before we owned it. I thought I'd share these two pictures, taken from the same angle around 80 years apart.

House around 1890. Original owner George Fischer and family.

 

House around 1950? 1960?

I often say that this house draws people to it. As testatment to that, both these pictures have been given to us by lovely people who had family members living here at one point or another. Only recently I was contacted via this blog by another family member, but sadly I haven't heard back from her as yet (hello!) We always welcome visitors and I'm of the belief that although this is 'our' house we are only really taking care of it and loving it for the moment, just as so many families have done in the past.

I hope you enjoyed this step back in time. I hope to add to this collection by taking a picture from the same angle once our work is finished.

Saturday ghost story

I'm back to share my latest ghostly tale with you after a busy day celebrating Tiny Girl's 2nd birthday. Hope I didn't keep you waiting ;-)

We've had a few very odd experiences in the house, some of which we just have no explanation for. I will probably share them at a later date but Thursday night's experience tops the lot for eeriness. Around mid-night Thursday Tiny Girl woke up and after a few unsettled minutes started screaming. She was yelling in a way that I haven't heard before and it certainly wasn't a typical pain cry (and mums out there will know that you just KNOW when it's a pain cry.) She yelled so much that I turned the light on but the yelling continued. It continued in our room, in the upstairs lounge, in the downstairs lounge and back upstairs into the study area. She was inconsolable and was grabbing me so tight and wailing for her dad. Eventually he got up and tried to comfort her and once again she gripped on for dear life.

(I'll stop the tale there to let you know that Tiny Girl hates men. Especially any man bold enough to enter our house. She saves the best of the terror for my brother-in-law, which I'm sure makes him feel rotten every time he comes over.)

So back to the story. Picture this- me sitting on the study chair, The Gas Man holding the screaming toddler, most of the lights are out and Tiny Girl starts pointing behind her dad over to a bookcase. Then clear as day she wails 'man!' 'man!' -- Cue silent parental melt down.--

So who's our mystery man? Well we like to call him George. Here's his picture. I'll tell you his story another day.