Memories are amongst the best things we, as human beings, have. They are incredibly personal and no-one on earth can take them away from us. We can recount them time after time and they don’t wear out.
When I moved into Garden Lodge, Freddie insisted I call it my home, and it was for so many years. It was home to all four of us – me, Joe, Jim and Freddie. We had, over the years, contributed to this common environment, our home, by the giving and exchanging of often very spontaneous gifts, not only birthday or Christmas presents.
Often, any one of us might have been out and passed a shop and saw something which shouted ‘Freddie’ and we would buy it and give it. Willingly and happily as we knew it would be accepted. Only those who share a house know what ‘goes’ and what doesn’t ‘go’ in it. We were all part of Freddie’s grand scheme.
Garden Lodge had a life, an indescribable feeling of warmth that Freddie gave to it.
From the minute he stopped breathing, so did the home for me, it became just a house, a building of bricks and mortar filled with great pieces of art and beautiful furniture, but not a home. Freddie is with me to this day in my memories and I don’t need a place to go to be with him. 💛
The wonderful picture during the happier times – Freddie’s “silly hat party” he celebrated his 40th birthday in style on the grounds of his beautiful home. (Peter, Jim, Freddie and Joe)
Richard Young is the photographer