A house is just bricks and mortar. But a home is so much more than that. It’s a place of warmth and safety, where you create memories and spend precious time with family. My parents’ home was very much my safe place. I had such fond memories growing up in their bungalow, which they’d bought in 1983. There was the table where I’d sat revising for my O-levels, the kitchen that my mum Irma kept so spotless, and the constant din of the radio – Mum put on Radio York while she pottered around and my dad Alan listened intently to the football scores every Saturday teatime.
‘I was happy for Mum – I liked Peter’
When Dad passed away in May 1996, aged 71, I worried about Mum living alone. By then I was 25 and living down the road with my then husband, so
