I dream of a little stone cottage with blue windows and a rose covered porch. A winding path leads from the ancient wrought iron gate to the solid front door.
As I enter the flagstone hallway, an oak staircase rises gracefully on my left and there is a door into a cosy sitting room, in which two walls are filled with my books and there is a writing desk by the window. A beautiful stone fireplace is flanked by over-stuffed chairs, with a thick Persian rug bowing humbly at their feet. It’s the perfect place for me.
To the right of the stairs, another door leads into a spacious family kitchen. There is plenty of room for my scrubbed kitchen table and chairs, my French dresser and battered but cheery sofa. A log burner sits in the corner. The boys and I happily chill out together in here.
As I climb the stairs, I note the satisfying use of white-washed wall space for my paintings, while my favourite photographs sit beautifully on a little antique table next to the landing window.
The first door I come to leads into a bright and cheerful bathroom with a wonderful deep bath. The sun streams through the roses outside and dapples the oak floor.
The second door reveals my own comfortable bedroom, with its vintage, patchwork velvet throw, strewn across the huge antique bed, and breath-taking views across the fields.
The third and fourth doors open to two slightly smaller bedrooms, quaint and inviting. These are my guest rooms.
I go back down the stairs and through the door at the end of the hall, leading to a small utility area and the back door into the garden, where my hens scratch optimistically in the dirt and the scent of the lavender infuses with the aroma of fruit ripening on the trees. Beyond this, sprawls the wonderfully overgrown paddock, in which my goats browse freely, and two stables sit in the shade of an old oak tree.
I have a great feeling of contentment and take immense pleasure in my surroundings.
With the Boys at my heels, I walk past the stables and through a gate leading out onto the fields, where we find the cat happily hunting in the hedgerow. We walk across the fields, the three boys investigating all the wonderful smells, until we come to a river. Dragonflies hover in the late afternoon sunshine, all along the riverbank, rising in cloud as three furry noses emerge from the cool green water.
Eventually we head for home. The Boys are hungry and I have a writing assignment to finish. When we arrive, the cat is waiting on the gate-post. She joins us as we cross the garden. She is ready for her supper too.
Later that evening, I immerse myself in a long hot bath and crawl into bed with a good book.
As I draw the curtains, I smile to myself. After all, I can enjoy all this again tomorrow.
Maybe one day my dream will come true ... and who knows, maybe I'll even have someone special to share it with.
