Through the kitchen window one can see the summerhouse. Can't wait, glass of wine, lap top, sketch book, sewing machine. Shall be spoilt for choice of what to do. And all the time to do it in.
No guests to meet and greet, no ironing, no cleaning, no washing, for any one else but us . Got you worried there for a minute I'll bet! No, we are not going to wallow in filth....
There is this sitting room to transform for a start. I do not do frills, or tie backs, or pelmets.
Through this window you can see one of the matters that will take Mike's attention, hedges all round, and all trimmed to a nicety - theres no way we can keep up to that perfection.
Before we move I have the nightmare of working out which of our furniture we will be taking, what I have to get rid of, some of it with, I have to admit, a tear. Either it wont fit size wise or it wont fit in with my plans.
We have a large quantity of pictures. In our current house that still leaves a lot of wall space. But in the 'new house', well, unless I want it to look like an art gallery, or cluttered curio shop I am really going to have to do some pruning.
The Madonna who looks down on the kitchen sink here.
The Renoir, 'Girl on her first visit to the theatre.'
The Dufy, 'The Band'.
There must be 30 plus pictures of birds.
Limited edition prints of the Yorkshire countryside.
Map of Staffordshire.
Maps of Banff and Buchan.
So this Chandler isn't resting just yet.