The Roundhouse was a complete shell. It was absolutely empty, lying derelict for years.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
In fact, we started off with two or three different shells and the shell had life of its own.
I was determined to have a spotless house when I grew up.
What I was trying to convey there was the kind of waste land that was left after the war. It was a bit like one always thinks of war, you know, stark scenery and no birds, no trees, no leaves, nothing living. And just emptiness.
Sometimes it does me good to look back at the days when the living wasn't so good. I remember in 1945 the dressing-rooms were gone, the park was in ruins, no stand, nothing.
Along the beach I never collected shells from my father's shore.
Blank House was exactly a nice empty sheet where nothing was accountable because you were so naughty that you were in Blank House.
One can never know for sure what a deserted area looks like.
The utilization of flat roofs as 'grounds' offers us a means of re-acclimatizing nature amidst the stony deserts of our great towns; for the plots from which she has been evicted to make room for buildings can be given back to her up aloft.
After having dispatched a meal, I went ashore, and found no habitation save a single house, and that without an occupant; we had no doubt that the people had fled in terror at our approach, as the house was completely furnished.
I've never had an empty house. Ever.