Today wasn't really hard. I had two options to take a picture of - my house, or my Dad. (Mwuhahahaha!) I chose my house because it's older. My house, which was once owned by the council until my mum bought it, is 90 years old and I've lived here all my life, same as my brother, Adam (who is 17 years older than me). It's not a nice house by any standards. The paint is peeling off the walls, there are dead ivy vines all over it, damp in the bedrooms and clutter everywhere. The downstairs decor is horrible - the wall paper looks like somebody puked on old lady curtains, and the wood furniture has seen better days. Still, there's no chance of moving and I guess it's okay. We have two gardens, both really rather big, and a nice green outside where we have bonfires, hog roasts and bbq's with the other residents along our 7-house row. So, without futher ado, I introduce my rickety old house.
SciAwkward, singing off.
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