Oakbank

    It was on the third floor, the top floor of an old Victorian house. Originally a servant’s room it was small with thin wooden walls. It was lovely to lie there and imagine who slept there before me - a maid perhaps? I could look out of the window and see along the street, almost to the river. If I sat up on the high ledge and leaned out, I could even see my Dad crossing the road back from work. I remember in one corner there was a cot which my brother and I had both slept in as babies. A nightlight sat at the end of my bed to keep the ankle-grabbing monster that lived under my bed at bay. It had a red shade that cast a lovely warm glow in which I could imagine fairies dancing in once I fell asleep.

    I loved my room but it had one great flaw. There were too many stairs for my Nana to climb to read my bedtime story to me. And so, my little brother who’s room was on the ground floor, got her there instead and after the story I would have to climb all the stairs myself……….