The Old Sunday School...

My nomadic days are over, kind of. I didn’t want to blog about my change of circumstances, in case I jinxed the deal, but this morning I collected the key to the Old Sunday School in the village of Asselby, which is situated halfway between the middle of nowhere and the back of beyond. I viewed the Old Sunday School in the first week of February; it was love at first sight!

The property is small, just 21 feet square, yet, because the main space is undivided, it feels very spacious (it helps, of course, to have spent the last five years living in a small Romahome). The floor is stone-flagged, the windows let in a lot of light and the room is open to the roof-beams. A small bedroom, and an even smaller storage area, have been created in the rafters; a bathroom has been shoehorned in downstairs. And that’s it!
  
One of the property’s many attractions is that I don’t have to open a tin of paint or borrow any power tools. The kitchen area is usable as is, and a washing machine was delivered this afternoon, to fill a gaping hole. I’ve also bought a slow cooker, so my first meal, this evening, was a tasty stew. The Old Sunday School is heated by three wall-mounted radiators. Everything is electric; there’s no mains gas in the village. Best of all is the woodburning stove, though, having forgotten to buy any logs, I’ll have to wait to try it out.

My first visitor was the postman (“I’m Paul, your regular postman”, he said), who delivered my BT broadband hub. I’ve had a busy day: unloading stuff, washing the worktops and flicking a duster around. I feel elated… and exhausted.

The Old Sunday School: what's not to like?