Nostalgia

I have just returned home from a lovely bicycle ride around the area I used to live. It was a rather emotional journey in fact, as I haven't been there properly for years. As I pushed San Marco (my dear bicycle) up the hill (he only has 3 gears) the smell of the creosoted fences in the sun brought back all manner of memories. For that moment I was an 8 year old girl pushing a pink bicycle up the same hill, perhaps with a teddy bear sat safely in the little basket on the back. I stopped outside my old house for a while, ostensibly to check my phone and noticed they've changed the door, but the little number plate is still the same. It's odd really, because I have now lived at my current house for longer than I did at my childhood home, and yet I still think of this as 'the new house'. I took the route I used to take to school past a factory which is now nothing more than a shell, only the outside walls and empty window frames remain. How things do change ... I have no idea what they used to make at this factory but I would often imagine it was something mysterious. I think it had something to do with my love for the Famous Five and other adventure stories that my mind always ran (and indeed still runs) to the peculiar. Anyway it was a very nostalgic trip, and I can't put it all into words which is rather annoying. So here is a photograph of a previous outing to Wollaton Hall.