Yesterday, on our last night at Goodleigh, the Russells took us out to eat at the village pub. The New Inn is just a short stroll down the hill, though a bit of a puff up again in the dark. Julia, mine hostess, handed us the menu: “It’s all made by my own fair hands. I’ll leave it with you so you can have a little thinkette.” An actress manqué.
I was sad to leave Anderton House, our bedroom with its Sheppey chair, Heals “Cogwheels” curtains and large bronze abstract relief that glows in the early morning sunlight. We could easily have stayed a full week – two even. There’s much to see and do in the surroundings, so many books worth reading in the Landmark library: I didn’t even finish the one I had brought with me, “Wolf Hall”. (Unlike for others we know and love, the Kindle hasn't yet fired our hearts.)