The parentals are fixing up the house: and I’ve just been looking (a few days back) at the results of the Baedekker Raids on Bath.
One stick of bombs went across the avenue where the ancestral spires are: haveing looked at where the bombs fell, you can now see it, if you see what I mean. There are two post war houses in an avenue of Edwardian ones: the two new ones on opposite sides of said avenue. And the third of the stick landed on the tennis court in the middle, destroying the pavilion.
Hmm, OK, so the connection? In the fixing up of the house the builders have found that the window frames facing that tennis court have all been pushed in: in essence, we’ve had draughts coming through since 1942 as a result of the bomb blast.
Not a big or major problem, fixed with a bit of sealant. But the idea that I am sitting here listening to a builder repairing war damage from
58 68 (see comments) years ago (or, actually, listening to him drinking tea in between repairing such damage) is, umm, a little odd.