My parents knew that it would be useless and a waste of time to argue against me leaving home any further. “Just keep in touch and let us know if you need any help. Promise, Tonie?”
“Yes, of course. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll still phone both of you, regularly and, if I have any problems, you will be the very first to know.”
There was nothing more to be said on the subject and I knew that I had better start seriously-looking for a house of my own, hopefully not too far away from where my parents lived.
Thinking about my childhood, ever since the age of, probably, eleven or twelve, I had a deep fascination for electronics and computing, knowing that, if possible, this was the area in which my future employment would be directed. Even with my poor eye-sight, I managed to assemble small electronic components and circuitry. It gave me a real sense of achievement and pride to construct electronic devices which actually worked. Using basic logic modules, I discovered how I could program them to carry out simple tasks and functions. This inspired me to learn more complex programming techniques and languages, a possible indicator of my future career.
Although my lack of sight made life a great deal more demanding and difficult, I had worked hard throughout my educational years, somehow managing ten, good, GCSE passes and three “A” levels, while at Sale Grammar School.
Following this, I had taken a four year course at Manchester Metropolitan University, qualifying with a BSC in Computer Science.
It had been quite a struggle while at University, but with the allowances provided for my condition, I amazed myself and many others by passing the rigorous course, admittedly with the valuable assistance of tutors, friends and family. Still, to attend graduation day with my family, I felt honoured, knowing that all the hard work had been worthwhile.
Hannah, my sister, who was nine years younger than me, had always been the greatest help and, apart from anything else, I felt that I should impose less on her time, especially since she would soon be starting on her own further education, studying to become a primary school teacher, probably, like me, at Manchester Metropolitan University. It was much more economical to study at a local University while still living at home, rather than staying at the University residences.
The third year on my own University course had been spent working for a quite large software company based in Manchester and, when I completed and passed the course, I had, thankfully, been offered a position by this same company. I did feel very honoured and fortunate to have a degree of financial stability and independence. Of even more importance, I really enjoyed my work and never regretted entering this complicated yet fascinating field of high technology.
Although part of my income had to help repay the notoriously expensive Government student loan and interest, which, probably, would never be fully repaid, I knew that I would have enough to pay a seventy-five thousand pound deposit and about seven hundred pounds monthly mortgage payments, thanks in part to my grandparents who had given me forty thousand pounds when I had reached the age of twenty-one. With a degree of luck, careful advice and investment of this gift, it had, over the past six years, appreciated to over fifty five thousand pounds.
Hannah, aware of this tremendous gift, knew that she would, equally, receive this huge amount when she reached the same age. I hoped, for her sake, that she would use the money wisely enough to provide for her own future.
I had thought about where I wanted to live on many occasions, yet decided that I would like to stay in Sale, just a few miles south of Manchester. The area was pleasant and, more importantly, Kelly and I were used to navigating our way around the area.
I had checked on the History of Sale for a school project and felt quite proud to have grown up here. Apparently, a hotel, called “The Brooklands Hotel” had been built on the corner of Marsland and Hope Road in 1872. Unfortunately the hotel had been demolished one hundred years later, to be replaced by offices, a Pub and a petrol station. The hotel had been built by the owners, “The Grand Hotel” in Manchester. Now, here comes the interesting fact. Apparently, comedians Laurel and Hardy had stayed at the hotel in 1947, when they were appearing on stage in Manchester. At the age of fourteen, I had even been picked to play the part of Stan Laurel in a sketch for the school Christmas concert, partly because I was, at that time, quite skinny. One of the “larger” boys played the part of Hardy and the sketch was a great success. It still amused me to remember how I had to maintain a “surprised” look, so typical of Stan Laurel.
When I had started looking for a house of my own, I had sought the assistance of a good friend, Suzanne, a twenty-five year old software developer from the same company, where I was working. I had always found her to be really kind and helpful, whenever I sought her advice or assistance and, yes, I did find her character very attractive, although I was too afraid to make a move in case she rejected my advances. I found it difficult to determine if she was friendly and helpful because of my sight problem or was there a remote possibility that she actually found me attractive?
Of course, I felt that others in the office had always assumed that there was something between us, but, if they asked, I would reply that Suzanne and I were just very good friends. If they had knowing smiles, these would have gone unseen by me.
It had been the price of the three bedroomed semi-detached house in Eastcroft Road that had interested me, as well as the good location. There were many houses of a similar style and size, but these were well outside my price range, yet this one was just about affordable. Of course, there could have been many good reasons why it was so cheap, but, as long as it passed the structural survey and did not have any leaks in the roof, then, I reasoned, it should be okay. Providing I had the funds, I could improve the house over the next few years, perhaps replacing some windows and doors. I understood that the hallway, landing and main rooms were all carpeted, though this had been done about twenty years ago. For now, the carpets and décor would just have to do.
Eventually, my parents had accepted that I would not change my decision and, since it was only ten minutes drive from their house, they knew that, in an emergency, they could still reach me without delay. My new house at sixteen Eastcroft Road, was also less than ten minutes walk from the local Metro station at Brooklands, making my daily commute to Manchester city centre quite straightforward.
Apparently, there had been several potential purchasers and it came as a relief when the paperwork on my new house was completed, all documents signed and payments transferred. It made me feel so very grown-up and proud to have the key to a house of my very own, especially when, in the present economic climate, many people have no choice but to pay extortionate rents as they are unable to afford the even bigger monthly mortgage repayments.
“The rooms are all reasonably-sized and everything seems to be in good condition”, Suzanne remarked as we were, for the first time, able to look around the house without being shepherded by the usual, protective, estate agents. “Some rooms probably could do with new decorating, but nothing urgent.” As an afterthought, Suzanne added, “And there’s absolutely no sign of any damp patches on walls or ceilings!”