I paid a long overdue visit to my eighty-nine-year-old Gran’s house this week and, despite being nervous that my children were going to create havoc and exhaust her, we all had a lovely time.
Whilst we were there, my three-year-old held my gaze very earnestly and said, ‘Everything here is very old, isn’t it?’ And she’s right, it is.
Being in my Gran’s house feels like you’re visiting the 1930s. I’m sure that my Gran was at her happiest when she went to college to train to be a teacher at the end of the thirties and her house somehow reflects that.
There’s a kind of non-greedy plenty and honest comfort with apples and raspberries to pick, comfortable wooden furniture and vintage sports equipment. When summer is still clinging on but the autumn is edging in, the house and beautiful garden feels very English and rural in a way that I unusually feel that those things might actually be a part of my identity after all.
//Photograph via Ebay
As well as reminding me to get planting my fruit trees and that the very young have an inexplicable affinity with the very old, my visit has inspired to me to honour my Gran’s style.
I’m currently trying to find a place in my house for this bureau, so I can write at it whilst crunching on a freshly picked apple and gazing up at the stacks of Penguin paperbacks and nature classification books.