A Dump Called Paradise

A Memory of Bersham.

I lived in this house until I was 21. My father had already bought the property when this photo was taken and I was also born in 1955. My parents had no hot water, low ceilings, no bathroom or electricity when they moved in. He did all the renovating himself...yet we had a wonderful, rich childhood. There used to be a picnic area across the road by the river...now there is a noisy dual carriageway there.  When my father died in 1984 my mother had to sell it because the house needed a lot of upkeep.   
In the past the house used to be a pub and Dad found lots of clay pipes in the garden. The horses were `parked` in the white area of the house. The bar was the black and white bit in the middle. The house was built in the 16th century so we were just a blip in its history....but it was a very well-loved home.