I sent the blog link to my mom and she sent the following update on my post about visiting my first home ever:
Saw the pics of Torlands again and thought I'd take a detour and explain. The home belonged to a Royal Marine who was, at that time, stationed in the US. So the government rented it out from him and charged us $75 per month, that included maid and utilities. It was a SWEET time for the exchange rate and we enjoyed our time there. Consider that we had a really upscale one-bedroom apartment in the Washington area for a whopping $169 a month and that will help you compare costs. It was a fantastic deal even then.
The place had 6 bedrooms, several baths, and large grounds. Most baths had sinks in them--I think they adapted it and rented out rooms during the war. It's the place where several familiar stories originated.
The night we moved in, some burglars broke in, evidently thinking it was still vacant. With everything still in boxes, all dad could find for a weapon was his Marine sword. He crept downstairs, and they heard the creaky steps and fled. Drawers were still open and French doors open with curtains blowing in the breeze. Naturally, I slept through the whole thing and was awakened when Dad came back up to the bedroom, turned on the light, and said, "We've had burglars downstairs." Through my sleepy stupor I looked up, and he had on his boxer shorts, a flannel plain shirt (it was cold in the house) and his sword. I burst out laughing at the sight, and then realized he was serious! The police came the next day and concluded that we didn't really have anything worth taking.
It's also the house where the cows all wandered into the yard when I forgot to close the gate. I yelled and screamed at them and they didn't even blink. I got my English neighbor to come over, and she did the same thing in an English accent, and they all fled. Go figure.