Prospect House & Me

When I walked through the front door of Prospect House back in January, I felt at home. I felt at peace. I felt that this was a place of healing, of calm and somewhere I could see a future for our family.

Perhaps that is because metaphorically, we are one and the same. She is proud. She stands strong. She is surrounded by beauty. She has been badly broken by a third party, patched up, with danger warning tape – don’t come too close, don’t touch or she will crumble. Underneath the ivy that stifles her, behind the trees that are blocking her face from the sun, is someone who just wants to be seen for who she is … and still loved.

She is a project house. A house where her traditions, history and unique proportions will be honoured and yet a house we will modernise and improve and make breathtaking and awesome.

She is a lot like me. I am a project. A never ending one. Always craving improvement…

She is a lot like me. As we strip away that ivy, I no longer feel stifled by the judgements of others. As we take down the trees and let in the sun, I feel the warmth of friends and family we let back into our lives. And next week, like the warning tape that will be removed by builders, perhaps the passing of the year mark will also allow me to remove my own.


And tonight, I hear the wind;  the wind of a hurricane passing through.  I hope she is strong enough to keep it together;  she is my inspiration; she is my strength and security.


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