Box of Tricks

Here is a follow up from my last blog. In that blog, I described the house I live in as having an interior that didn’t look as if it would fit inside the exterior, rather like the contents of the fictional Tardis wouldn’t fit inside Dr Who’s magical phone box.

In my blog, I then described the interior in words but, as is said, a picture is worth a thousand words. So, here is the picture.

The soaring ceilings and the massive structure of exposed beams of the interior don’t look as if they could fit inside the modest low-set exterior, whose picture can be seen in my last blog. But they do.

My beloved partner, the late Janet Ward, was a frustrated architect. In her day, only men were supposed competent enough to do such stuff. So, thirty three years ago, we agreed she should design our house. She did so, and after it was built, we entered for our first viewing of the finished product. I remember being amazed, among other things, at the Tardis effect.

I imagined she might have said or thought something like ‘… and now for my next trick …’

It was her last trick I wish she had decided against. This was the trick where she ingested a piece of food into her windpipe, and choked to death. This only happened last October, and I am still in an immense state of shock.

But I live inside the beautiful house she designed and, when I contemplate it, I feel Janet’s warm embrace. It is a friendly loving house. It is Janet.

When I scratch around for words to describe my relationship of 33 years and 18 days with Janet, the word ‘love’ comes to mind. But this word is overused and, in the present context, inadequate. I would say instead that for every day we were together, from first to last, she enthralled me. Without being too presumptuous, I like to think I enthralled her in much the same way.

Now I must leave it to the house to enthrall me.