The loveliest house that I'd ever lived in was the one that I lived in with my grandparents when I was a child. And the name of the house was Crosslands.
It seemed so huge to me as a child. It had a lovely living room with a piano in it. And there was a strange room. It was the drawing room. 我们只在周末时使用它. I used to be amazed about this room because it had the best furniture in it but it was covered with sheets—it was as if all the furniture was wearing clothes——and it seemed to me crazy that we couldn't enjoy this beautiful furniture all the week through really.
Now, I went back to it a few years ago and it was a big mistake. They've modernized(现代化) it inside, and they've taken away that lovely furniture. And they've knocked a wall down so the drawing room and the living room have become one big room.
But I think what troubled me most about it was the feeling that the house seemed to be smaller and that my memory of this lovely large warm comfortable house had turned into an old house with modernized rooms inside it. And it taught me a lesson really that you can't go back to the past and catch it. But there's a beautiful memory there.
