So, my new home. Well, there are just so many things about it that appeal. It doesn’t have a street number, it has a name (that’s just so UK). It’s not a house, it’s a cottage (or so the name tells me – looks like a house to me). It has a flagstone path (dangerously slippy, but let’s not dwell on the dangers right now) surrounded by flowering shrubs and hedges. There is a little wooden gate with a quaint little latch, and the roof is made of slate. Brand new slate as the owners just had it re-roofed – the romantic in me loves the slate, the pragmatist appreciates its modernity.
My friends in Oxford live in a lovely old red brick house on a quiet street, with a steeply sloped slate roof, and a blue door. And yes, I have been rather envious up until now. Now, let us acknowledge I am still in the north of Scotland and there is only so much you can do with pebble-dash. So, it may not have the cachet of a canal-side country house, but nonetheless, it’s my bonnie, peedie hoose (for the time being) and I’m that chuffed about it.
How wonderful !!! Are you still in Kirkwall?
Yes, in another part of town. Closer to the shops, farther from The Standing Room Gin Bar. Ah well.