Voices from the past can be so evocative

MANY YEARS ago, when scraping together a crust as a local newspaper journalist, a colleague who had a wife with a prosperous business enjoyed a more affluent life than the rest of us.

So we were not surprised when one day he announced that he was taking the plunge and buying a house he’d always admired, a rather special place on the edge of town.

We were slightly in awe when it turned out to be a landmark building brimming with style, a home beyond the wildest dreams of his fellow hacks – a white-washed Georgian home, encircled by tall walls enclosing fruit- filled gardens and even an old icehouse