Within the new "walled garden" there is a small cottage. It is a Georgian, three-storeyed terrace in a little run of dwellings on the village green. It is only one room wide and the front door opens straight onto the sitting room without any vestige of a porch or hallway.I have managed to squeeze myself and some of my furniture into the small spaces it provides and have sent the rest off to auction. It has taken a couple of shuffles to get it comfy and uncluttered and now I proudly show it off. The upper picture shows the entry and half the sitting room.
The back door leads to the new, but much smaller, walled garden via a stable door and a future blog will display the garden in better light. The kitchen is small but very well set up and easy to use.
The end of the living room can be used as a small dining area. I went to IKEA today to get this small table to fit the available space but it took three attempts to escape from the car parking area that surrounds the MetroCentre gigantic retail park. Each time I go I think I have got it sorted and will remember the secrets of the exit route. I have never got out without a hassle. Maybe next time!!!The small cottage I'm living in now is the previous home of the notorious serial killer Mary Ann Cotton. She was arrested from this house in the late nineteenth century.
More about this next time!!!!!
Cheers Gillian
4 comments:
Georgian buildings (especially three storey terraces!) make me melt. Also, I LOVE your doormat! The Mary Ann Cotton thing is well interesting, but that is worth a another blog entry ;-) xx
It looks so cute. Who plays the guitar. Lachie has a desire to play one too. I see that you still use my knitting bag that I made for you. The house looks so nice and cozy and I am sure that Tigger has made himself right at home too.
What a wonderful and sweet little home. I can't wait to see pictures of the garden. I'd never heard of Mary Cotton before, but now I'm intrigued and headed out to do some more exploring about her.
I used to live in a similar house in Carlisle [English/Scottish border] with my 2 kids. I don't think it was as old or historic as yours, it was in a small cul de sac on the edge of the city, the road was still cobbled.
My visual memory is of the shiny wet dark cobbles and the shiny black slate roofs as I looked down the hill.
Carlisle is in the West - thus wet quite often.
On the corner was a bigger house - apparently the "foreman" at the nearby factory, who would make sure everyone was up and out in time for work each day, once the morning klaxon had sounded.
On occasion the Salvation Army brass band would come and play hymns in the maze of little streets and it felt like very little had changed.
PS My friend bought an apartment in the house of Denis Neilson [serial killer] everything was fine, except once when the drains blocked, which made her wonder if she had been wise.
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