We have moved house, or as they say in Scotland, we have done a “flit”. At last – goodness, paperwork takes a long time – not ours, we had ours done in a flash, but yes – we are done and moved. Carlisle I am delighted to say must be one of the UK's best kept secrets, it’s a dear little city, sweet and friendly and I am very in love. We live near Rickerby Park which is slap bang on the edge of the town centre, it is a reasonably large open patch of ground with the river Eden flowing through. On the diagonal side of the road is Bitts Park and there is a dinky cricket oval – something that warms the cockles of Gravel-Guys heart a great deal. We are two doors from a mini market shop and about 10 minutes from a Morrisons supermarket and I can buy pretty much most things I could want within normal UK parameters. I am almost delirious with joy, I could theoretically buy a leek a day (I won’t – not efficient, but….. I am no longer expecting a leek emergency ever again unless it is national or global so I feel pretty good with life, my general leek-related anxieties appear over for now).
We really have landed in clover - leeks, open parkland, historic and super-delightful town centre in walking distance... Closest of all, Rickerby Park is a lovely tract of land with The Swifts on the other side of the river – The Swifts is another big open area with lots of work being done to minimise flooding by returning watermeadows and such like – something very dear to the fluvial geomorphologist husband, I suspect he will go running and nod approvingly at the same time.
Of course there is also Bitts Park. This is kitty-corner to Rickerby Park and full of soft hazy foliage just starting to soften the skyline, it's next to the castle (yes, we have a castle - and a cathedral....).
The house is dinky, I am smitten – a sweet little Victorian terrace, and the back garden is a walled garden – all the way round. The downstairs rooms have original cornicing and ceiling roses, there are old fashioned fireplace surrounds, a huge, solid front door and inner door with etched glass… and a walled garden. Not to labour the point too much but it has a walled garden, that is a fantasy I’ve held since I first read The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgkin Burnett) now I can be my own Mary Lennox and set about “restoring” it. Gravel-Guy ever the sensible, suggested we wait the year out and see what pops up from the bark mulch – silly him! I had already test-scratched at the bark chips and discovered weed suppressant cloth. Nothing will stop my plans now – we have a spot ear-marked for herbs (terribly important), a couple of little apple trees planned, an acer planned for a large pot, a hydrangea in another pot, a staphylea near the tiny shed, a magnolia over there, a dwarf mock orange blossom about there, some shade loving iris, an auricula theatre…….. Gravel-Guy has left the ladder and the bike rack for the car in the middle of the little lawn in silent protest, of course I will overcome this. We/I have overcome already his laundry issues (a tiny washing line that cuts across my view of the garden from the dining table where I work), words were exchanged and after some firm negotiations, and an attempt at a standoff he has now promised not to hang his graying, fraying pants (specifically his under-frillies) in my eyesight (I sound rather Hyacinth Bucket there), gentlemans’-bunting as I called these rather drab and forlorn looking items a-dangling are NOT part of my plans. But how heaven is all that! A walled garden with good bones and weed suppressant cloth means I can plant my schemes as I wish as it is basically waiting for plants and soil feeding and such like, not much can get better than that.
To ensure Gravel-Guy feels that he has some dominion over our little empire I have magnanimously let him use the front bedroom and choose the paint we will paint it (I did suggest dark green was rather nice, and after pondering this, he has agreed... he is therefore allowed to choose from three near identical shades – generous of me I know). I have also bought him a sofa bed and will be buying him a desk – which also sounds generous until I mention that I chose that new desk (mwhahahahahahaaaaaa) as a gift for him to replace a very scabby old table. The desk is a mid century design that will go with the chair and the sofa bed and be ideal by the window where he likes to work, and it will have storage for his bits and bobs and even his bobs and bits. He is extraordinarily pleased with life – for a Gravel-Guy.
So a couple of weeks in, we are as happy as three little clams. Nr.1 child has been outside and gone walking quite contentedly in daylight (major achievement), the house of course is still a complete guddle – we have boxes, and the boxes we are not unpacking yet are now those ones no one wants to unpack as they are full of useful stuff that no one wants the responsibility of, or to take the effort of figuring where those sensible things should go. We need bookcases, we need wardrobes but it is all good really. We each have space to rattle about and the local neighbourhood is lovely, Nr.1 child was delirious with delight that we had a Chinese takeaway from across the road the day we moved in. I know where most of my knitting and fabric and stitching is, the wool winder and swift are readily to hand –I know where the yarn or fabric boxes have pitched up, but not necessarily which yarn is in which box… I know where the sewing machine is, I know where my thread is and the ironing board and the iron. This is happiness. I think we are all going to like it here.
I have barely touched any knitting, but I do have a needlepoint in progress.
Our belongings are mostly here too, some are still in Kirkintilloch in a lock up, but we did get an old sofa out of storage – 15 years of storage. Sadly the old sofa was past it, so Gravel-Guy chopped it up and it is now in my darling little garden, however the sofa yielded a very special treasure as a last gift to us. A sock, a sock buried so deep that Gravel-Guy can’t fathom how it got way into the internal workings of the sofa – a Simon sock. So, I guess that’s Simon blessing our new home as that was one of Simons favourite socks when he was small and he had a very particular relationship to his socks. That sock is immensely special.
It is now Easter. The daughter invited herself to stay and immediately commanded Gravel-Guy retrieve her from Leeds, however she did “remind” him to swing past her local Waitrose and find smoked hummous and as many different varieties of tofu as could be found. In return, she has made us risotto one night, and sushi another then she baked a gluten-free, lactose-free ginger cake and has effectively splattered the kitchen from one end to another. She has taken over the spare upstairs room with a mountain of clothing, deposited clothing to be cleaned in the utility room and sequestered the front room downstairs for Netflix binging and more embroidery. She has also taken over the shed and has suggested a spare set of keys to come and go as she pleases when lockdown is over… Hurricane Frances will leave Tuesday or Wednesday - when we have run out of smoked salmon and avocado I’m guessing. It is delightful to have her here, but by hokey, she makes a mess.