Up a flight of cobbled steps, on the corner of a tiny square, stands one of the most bedraggled, unloved houses in Tavira. In a town where every other street has a ‘do-er upper’ – part of it’s charm – this one is nothing uncommon. Often I look at a ruin and think, ‘that would make a great little home’, and pass right on by. But this lost soul always stops me in my tracks.
I first saw it a dozen years ago, when I’d been puffing up and down hills, exploring Tavira’s delightful back streets. It looked the perfect size. And maybe I could have a tiny roof terrace where I could closet myself away, and peer down at the occasional passer by. And then, one Christmas time, I saw the little square decked in all its finery. What wonderful neighbours I could have!
But the years have rolled by, and I haven’t claimed it as mine. Time hasn’t been kind and now I can see inside to the wooden ceiling. Weeds sprout from the roof and gutters. And still I’m tempted! Why hasn’t it been snapped up? Did I mention the steep, cobbled steps? How would I ever get the shopping home as I get older and dothery?
It’s not as though there aren’t plenty of others to feel sorry for. Spare a kind thought for these.
Why am I sharing these today? Well, I thought I’d cheer up my old buddy, Sue. She loves nothing more than a good ruin. And Paula’s back with Pick a Word in another engaging Thursday’s Special. I chose Remains and Non-Human to illustrate.