Braidwood

I will be living in my late Uncle Ian’s house for the remainder of my stay in the UK.  He built this house in the village of Braidwood over 50 years ago (I still remember as a little girl being brought out here to play in the fields with my cousins while my uncle showed Dad all the work that they were doing), and until the flood damage last December, it was a simple, sweet, very dated house filled with older furniture, worn carpeting, and lots of memories.  But the flood put paid to the first two, and slightly dented the last.

My cousin is an amazing woman – since January she has hired a contractor, supervised the renovations from Kent, and, when I pulled up to the house yesterday, she & her hubby were doing a major clean-up in the garden.  And what a pay-off – the house is stunning!  Bright, light, airy, and modern.  Oh, and cold.  It seems poor heating and icy water has followed me from Pipersquoy Cottage down to Lanarkshire.  The house needs a new boiler, which is coming on Saturday – until then it’s cold showers and space heaters.

But I don’t care; I can wait.  This house is absolutely lovely!  Everyone who knows them agrees: Uncle Ian & Aunt Margaret would have loved what Viv has done here.  I know I do.

(I’m less enamoured of the loft: it’s accessed by a ceiling hatch in the hall with a dropped ladder.  The hatch latch is broken and I am currently living with this gaping hole in the ceiling, and gusts of cold air coming from the uninsulated attic.)

A misty morning, my back garden

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