I was enjoying a conversation with an ancient relative – she was recalling the days when my father was posted abroad on one of the assignments, leaving us with our mum, living in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.  Mum didn’t drive so reaching the shops brought untold challenges.    At that time my sister and I attended a school some seven miles away and the quickest route took us up past the church and the very gorgeous romantic styled houses from the early part of the 20th C.  I used to love cycling past, looking at each one, admiring the brickwork here and the lead paned windiows there . .   another thing I loved was to compare the styles of the windows and the casements from the sash styles.  The gables on the roof tops really appealed to me.  It’s hard to put into words just how much a young teenager stores away in memory banks for much later recall.   I still covet anyone with one of those houses and fervently wish I could afford to buy one!