When we were young Dad decided, out of the blue, to build us a dolls house. I’m not talking about some lame, scaled-down replica you dump your Barbie dolls in or a pokey, crawl-in box suitable only for three-year-olds. No, ours was adult-size – with stumps, wooden framework, glass windows and a corrugated iron roof. Big enough to rent out to a small family.
It’s a significant part of the family history, at least for me and my two younger sisters. The trouble is no one ever took any photos of it. When did Dad build it? What did it look like exactly? When did it eventually get pulled down? Was it standing for 5, 6, 7 … years? Important questions but, frustratingly, no definitive answers.
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Third bit from the right 