My late grandparents lived in a Tudor cottage on the river - I was convinced they had priest holes and more tucked away. It was a house that creaked with mystery and legend. One summer I excavated a patch of their garden - driven by an unsolved murder my grandfather told me about. Needless to say, Nancy Drew and the Famous Five featured heavily on my reading list. No bodies were unearthed, but I did come across beautiful broken crockery, discarded smoking pipes and an intricately decorated toilet which was most odd.
Our footprint will be left in the changing shape of the house, and the bits that we pop in our front wall. As odd as that sounds, our existing wall is a hodge podgy of wine bottles and doorknobs, bricks, tiles and anything else that the original owner could lay his hands on. My parents have kindly donated a couple of items which the builders are going to incorporate. I do like the notion of legacy, however small.