A year in Asselby...

It’s a year to the day since I moved into the Old Sunday School. I’m glad I made the move when I did. I wouldn’t want to be sitting out the lockdown in a campervan. If the police found me, parked up in a lay-by, they’d probably tell me to “go home”… which would be easier said than done.

The Old Sunday School came without a garden, or even a yard. For eleven months, the lack of a garden hasn’t been an issue, because I was able to get out and about. For the last month I have missed having a patch of greenery to call my own, but, well, like everybody else, I’m missing quite a few elements of normal life right now. No complaints. I have it easy. The spring sunlight is streaming through the arched windows, the trees on Blacksmith Lane are in blossom, a song thrush is singing and yesterday I saw my first swallow of which will no doubt be a very strange summer.

Licensed today: an eco-house at Findhorn…