This picture of a traditional terraced row in Horden Co.Durham (which I took on a Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago) captures a tiny glimpse of why I love Northern ex-colliery towns and villages. In these "properties" there is almost nothing for the fatuous Estate Agent to spin his dishonest blather about. No gardens, no decking, no conservatories, no block paved driveways for multiple cars, no proximity to retail parks, no"investment" properties at all. Silence reigns, quiet living goes on, apart from the odd flutter of a pigeon wing or the bark of a mongrel dog.Friday, May 18, 2007
This picture of a traditional terraced row in Horden Co.Durham (which I took on a Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago) captures a tiny glimpse of why I love Northern ex-colliery towns and villages. In these "properties" there is almost nothing for the fatuous Estate Agent to spin his dishonest blather about. No gardens, no decking, no conservatories, no block paved driveways for multiple cars, no proximity to retail parks, no"investment" properties at all. Silence reigns, quiet living goes on, apart from the odd flutter of a pigeon wing or the bark of a mongrel dog.
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3 comments:
If it wasn't for the cars and the uPVC, that scene could be from any point in the last hundred years or so. My mum and dad's first house was a terrace. Washing hung across the street at the back, and a Salvation Army brass band played at the end the street on a Sunday. Opposite our house was a haberdasher, a greengrocer, a butcher (still thriving to this day) and a hairdresser (also doing well). This sounds like a scene from the 1920s - but I'm not even 40 yet!
The local Salvation Army brass band play opposite my front window, but only near Christmas these days. I'm happy to financially support their worthy and muscular blood and thunder, even though I'm a "left-footer."
I count the Horden terraced street photo as successful if it seems "timeless" i.e. just remove a few elements and it could be from any time in the last 100 years.
Where was your Mum and Dad's first house?
Keighley, in Yorkshire. A very different town even 30 years ago - each of us at the local junior school had at least one parent working in the textile or engineering industries.
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