The window I once climbed in.
The room where I learned my Latin.
The telephone that was twice cut off.
The hallway light that was always on.
The kettle I was constantly boiling.
The window by which our Christmas tree stood.
The bathroom the President of Ireland once used.
The bedroom in which a student unsuccessfully slit her wrists.
The doorbell the Socialists rang to summon me.
The letter box my school reports came in through.
The front door I still have a key to.
The room I saw her die in.