My home is the happy, safe place which has evolved over the last 31 years; it's where the late Mr.G and I grew up together and brought up our children. It's where the children, and theirs, return as often as possible and are surrounded by the familiar. It is full of memories, not to mention clutter - all of which means something to someone. Like Kitty's it has changed over the years, quite dramatically in some parts, as has the garden which has changed shape and halved in size, but that too has many memories - of the baby sleeping in her pram under the lilac tree/playing/camping/barbeques/water fights/engagement parties. It's very true, home is where the heart is, even if one heart isn't there any more 