Shirley's blog on her writing and on living in Egypt etc

( This is me taken when I was about ten. Yeah, I was mad on rabbits and thought this one ( Flecky) may like a ride on the see-saw. Behind me is Broadfield House and the beautiful lawns, which dad cared for so fervently and which today look like a war zone)

I am angry, very angry and also very sad. Today is the nineth anniversary of my dear father's death. Yesterday I went over to Broadfield Park, in Crawley, where we lived.

Dad was caretaker and gardener there for nearly forty years.

Of course this is not the Broadfield it was when I lived there. Most of the beautiful woods, fields and trees have all sadly disappeared under new town houses-Broadfield neighbourhood. But amidst all the devastation I always consoled myself with one thing. Broadfield House, being grade two listed, would never be touched. Yeah right! I was mad to think that. Yesterday I saw an application notice on a lamp post by the front door that said that they are going to turn this splendid building into twelve flats!

I am so annoyed about this and have been on to the local paper 'The Crawley Observer'.

They do not know anything about this and are looking into this matter for me.

They have recently been running a campaign to save Nightingale House from destruction (in the old part of Crawley-not many old parts left thanks to Crawley planners)

What are these planners thinking? Why are they so intent on erradicating every vestige of out heritage? And how can they do this to a listed building?

This is madness and I am out to do as much as I can to stop this.

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