We are moving house again. This will be our third move in as many years. The difference with this move is that this is going to be our house. I honestly never thought we’d be able to say that, but we can, and it’s a very special moment. Our new home has a leaky chimney and some unwelcome (and soon to be vanquished) houseguests of the wood-eating variety but it is our very own. It is made of red bricks and has a crooked staircase that wobbles off in different directions. From the house you can follow one of a myriad of little ginnels and alleys down to the river. Behind it ancient yews spread their great boughs over a churchyard teeming with birds.
Little Owl wasn’t totally convinced when we first took the children round to see it. She raced around the rooms, initially delighted, only for a confused frown to form on her forehead. She grabbed her notebook and began making copious notes. There was obviously a problem. At last she tapped me smartly on the arm. There was indeed a problem; we had bought a house with no bathroom! In her haste to see each room before Finch could get there she’d missed the door at the end of the kitchen…which leads to the bathroom.
Here’s a draft image from a stalled illustration project.