With bare feet...

I tread the treads of the steep, steep stairs of my 300 year old cottage

and sit at some ungodly hour blogging!

It's funny how tossing and turning in my down filled duvet the words for my blog flowed Alan Bennett-like through my brain. Now in the cold dark morning at my desk the fluidity of thoughts has evaporated.

'No real surprise there LL that's exactly what happens with all your grand schemes!'

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My funny little cottage is all rooms on top of each other and to arrive here I have scuttled down one flight of stairs.

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Through here our little cosy sitting room grandly called the winter room...

due to the fact we have an open fire! This is the old front door with a key the size of a safe- cracking crowbar.

The next set of steps is into the kitchen and my pension-busting extension!

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I love my home.

I love my life.

It has been action-packed, good and bad and all the exciting bits in between.

I always say if I died tomorrow I wouldn't have any regrets. A good place to be...

and in the meantime the next flight awaits... in the kitchen the kettle calls.