I haven’t written this blog for a
while. Since November, in fact,
according to the date of my last post. Work has
been busy and then there has been Christmas and then there has been Easter. And I began writing this about a month ago, sitting in the British
Library next to St Pancras Station.
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| Piazza, British Library |
I had time to kill whilst waiting for
H, who was busy being interviewed for a job, and Storm Imogen was raging away outside.
Now we're on to Storm Katie and it’s Easter Saturday. Where does the time go? Going back to the day of the British Library
visit, we should have been lunching at the Capital Hotel with Nathan Outlaw but
had to cancel due to the interview. When
H was released from interrogation (she got the job!), we had a much needed
glass of wine in Fortnum’s before crossing to the Royal Academy to view the Painting the Modern Garden: From Monet to Matisse Exhibition, which I just loved. I’ve been to Giverny, Monet’s garden north of
Paris, and it's on a par with Sissinghurst in terms of its spirit, atmosphere
and beauty.
Then more culture, sort of, Eddie Izzard,
transvestite and comedian, at the Palace Theatre. But, before that, as I said, I was in the odd position of having time to
kill. And where better than the British Library? Even sitting in the entrance
lobby, I was surrounded by industrious writers.
People using laptops, tablets and phones. Looking up, I realised that I was the only
one writing by hand. It made me feel odd.
Eccentric. Old-fashioned.
And then the phone rang and it was H to say
that she was free. Which meant that I no
longer had time to write about what we have done. And time slipped by until, finally, in the
midst of Storm Katie, I am sitting by the fire with time to reflect, time to
write about what we have achieved at the Old Rectory since I last reported. I need to catch up on progress, review the
year, chart where we have been and where we have got to on our journey to
revive the Old Rectory and to turn it back into a home. At the moment, it seems to be clinging more
to its time as a workhouse!
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| The Workhouse |
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| The Water Tank Edges its Way into the Cupboard |
