A Little Tour in Middleton

Dearest Emily,

I do love looking around people's houses- seeing how they live, what they choose for decoration. Shops too- how they are styled, the care taken with the displays.

I had a feast for my eyes today- when I went to see some lovely interiors in Middleton...

First of all- The Library...

A lovely warm and cosy sitting room, in reds and greens...

A pretty hallway,

Bedrooms...

 

 and last but not least- this lovely Haberdashery;

actually- let's have one more- the Apothecary;

Did you know that Middleton had a Haberdashers and an Apothecary Em?

Well, there's a whole street I didn't know anything about. It has several houses, an Apothecary, Haberdashers, Booksellers and a Flower shop.

It's true that no-one goes there much, just those that know about it.

And there are very few of those.

To get there, you go to Middleton- to a little road between two others, near to Weston Manor. Then, you drive down the lane almost to the end of it.

Now you must go- on foot. Only a few paces, through a gate, and knock on a door.

If you are very lucky you will be invited in, taken through the hallway, kitchen, conservatory and back garden.

Then, you go up some steps, through a door into another dwelling-and there Em is the street!

No, I'm not making it up- it's all true...

There on a workbench is the Street.

all in miniature and made by Patricia!

It is quite incredible Emily! Next time you are down- Patricia might let you see it. I showed my pictures to our Chairman, and he'd very much like Patricia to do an exhibition once it is all finished.I hope she does.
Look what she made for me too;

Amazing work, eh?

Lots of love to you and Annabel,

Your ever-loving grandmother, GiGi XXX

February Phantasmagories

Dearest Emily,

Easter seems a long way off, which is when I next expect to see you and Annabel- even though the Supermarkets would have us think we all need creme eggs right now.

So, here today I send you a scary ghost picture and this poem that Lewis Carroll penned for a friend who complained that he  was glad enough to see him when he came, but didn't seem to miss him if he stayed away.

And cannot pleasures, while they last, Be actual unless, when past, With anguish smarting? They leave us shuddering and aghast, And must I then, at Friendship's call, And cannot friends be firm and fast, And yet bear parting? I have of gladness, Calmly resign the little all (Trifling, I grant, it is and small) And think you that I should be dumb, And lend my being to the thrall Of gloom and sadness? And full DOLORUM OMNIUM, And daily thinner? Excepting when YOU choose to come And share my dinner? At other times be sour and glum At night-time languish, Must he then only live to weep, Who'd prove his friendship true and deep By day a lonely shadow creep, Sinks not in grief and wild amaze, Oft raising in his broken sleep The moan of anguish? The lover, if for certain days His fair one be denied his gaze, And posts them to her. But, wiser wooer, He spends the time in writing lays, And if the verse flow free and fast, Till even the poet is aghast, A touching Valentine at last When thirteen days are gone and past The post shall carry, Of February. Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet, In desert waste or crowded street, Perhaps to-morrow. Perhaps before this week shall fleet, I trust to find YOUR heart the seat Of wasting sorrow. See you both soon,  your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi XXX