The Lodger, continued

Having discussed my decision to move out of the family home with Mike, he kindly agreed that I could come and lodge at Greendene. It seemed the best option and as no one was staying there at night it would be good for security reasons as well as a convenience for me.

The accommodation upstairs was pretty minimal and a lot to be desired with cobwebbed corners and the smell of dusty neglect. There was no heating in the rooms and a lot of junk to be moved. It was now spring and the cherry trees were wearing their wedding gowns. The dark stems black against shimmering ‘pinky-whites’ was breathtaking, it seemed an appropriate time to be moving in and I felt a thrill of of excitement at the prospect.

I chose the room looking out on the cherries and started to plan and paint the grey grimy walls that sloped sharply due to being up in the roof. It felt like being under canvas in a big tent. I bought a new carpet, a bed and a small chest of draws was found and dragged up the narrow stairs.

This reminds me of the time when in a frenzy of tidying, Betty and Michael, but chiefly Betty decided to clear the other rooms upstairs as well.

So in order to fit in a new computer, it was decided the old sofa bed had to go.

Now this was an ancient relic that had a complicated metal structure that could rival a Rolls Royce’s chassis. This rather sinister dark monstrosity was incredibly heavy with an iron frame that was made to last for millennia, but with typical optimism Betty declared,

“I’m sure you two can get it down the stairs”   

Both of us looked at each other sceptically and shook our heads.

Nothing daunted, she goaded,

“Oh come on, think how much space you’ll have when it is gone” So reluctantly, with clouds of dust, debris and cobwebs we began to remove leather cushions and managed to take off the arms to help get it through the doorway. The bed was in the back room and we had to drag it through 3 doors and round a sharp bend before we approached the stairs. With a heaving, puffing and muttering we manoeuvred the dam thing vertically to negotiate the sharp bend half way down the stairs. Well, we got it inch by inch down the first few steps and then we had to face the left hand turn. We were bruised and scratched from metal protuberances and try as we might we couldn’t get round no matter which way we up ended the armoured tank.

Push, heave curses and swearing relieved the tension, but it did not budge. What were we to do?

To quote the phrase from those iconic pair, Laurel and Hardy,

“Another fine mess you got us into,” both looking at Betty, who suggested making a cup of tea.

After a slurp of tea sitting half way up the stairs, we finally decided that we would have to take it back up and try and take it apart and chuck it out of the window.  

Back, arms and legs aching and a large amount of swearing, we heaved it back the way we had come, back to the room from wence it came.  We had had enough by then and exhausted we fell down the stairs to the kitchen to be revived by another cup of tea. This heavy and malevolent construction one could say, was an example of great British engineering, built like a tank and made to last!

*

I finally settled into my new room and enjoyed my new freedom. Now I was living on site and had only to walk down the path to the studio to work. It was a real joy to open the front door to the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air and the occasional sight of pheasants and deer wandering and strutting through the garden. I could take a walk before breakfast and enjoy the misty morning light, the emergence of wild flowers through the seasons. I felt great and that I could really make pottery and paint heartfelt landscapes. I was in my element.

My heart flies up!

Amongst the shimmering ash

A glow of azure between their leaves

My heart flies down!

Amongst the tall bright sheaves

Where the spider’s dark world lies

Down, down beneath

Slow time wanders

And shadows shift

Moments caught in the spider’s eyes

And a startled thrushes cries

Echoing round our tangled land

Next chapter, The Party