About a year ago, my late husband lost his fight with cancer, and I moved to cheaper accommodation.
Coincidentally, the place I moved to had been one of the houses we had looked at when we first came to Harrogate. A typical, old-fashioned, beautiful Harrogate house, near to the centre of town, close by the International Conference Centre. Just arrived from London, we had been wowed at the view from the back, overlooking gardens with mature trees, in a valley – the effect was like living in woodland. My hotel-sized room (not a London broom cupboard) was en-suite, but sharing a kitchen, which suits me fine, as I am old, don’t eat much, and now I am on my own, don’t need to cook.
The Estate Agent was relieved that I did not have a car, as the parking was limited, but told me they had a shed where I…
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