16/07/2026
It's been a funny couple of weeks, or months I suppose.
Around 20 years ago I moved into a little village in Cornwall. Not one of the super expensive coastal ones but more inland, one still full of families who have been there for generations, and whose family names appear on the gravestones of the local church.
At this point, 2 things were most important in my life..
1. That it had a good local school with small classes and more time for the children.
2. That the area had good dog walking.
With me at the time I had my first lurcher, my black and tan gypsy girl who was forever at my side. For hours we would explore the area, the woodlands, the local pubs. On one such walk I discovered a house that I completely fell in love with. It was the house I dreamt of. Roses and wisteria covered the front and large potted aganpanthus stood at each side of the front door. Fruit bushes grew to one side of the house. A beautiful blue painted barn stood alongside the mainhouse and little, intriguing barns.
On the opposite side of the road a productive vegetable garden showed the sort of people who might live there.
Fast forward to Covid and I was asked by one of my customers if I could collect some leek plants from their friend. There it was, that cottage I dreamed of.
I got to spend precious days working in that garden, sitting on a bench outside drinking coffee and discussing art, gardens, watching the birds on the feeder, listening to the guinea fowl call loudly from the tree above. I got to go into the house with it's bold William Morris designs and treasures collected over many generations and from many countries.
Today I went for the last time to see it finally packed up as it welcomes new custodians. I so hope that the new owners continue to make it the sanctuary for both humans and wildlife that it has been for so many years. Grateful that I get to come home to my own cottage, the place that I never thought I would get to, and to bring home a few momentoes from that happy place.