Occasional tedious ramblings from a feminist, atheist, autistic academic and historic narrow boater who likes cats, beer, tea, and solitude, and is strangely fascinated by the cinema organ.
Saturday, 7 May 2011
I remember the first time I went into a preserved cottage, at a mining museum in Wales - also the first time I saw a rag rug - and I've loved them ever since. I never go to the Ellesmere Port museum without spending some time in the 'Porters Row' cottages, and over the Easter weekend it was lovely to be able to wander in and out at times when there weren't too many other people around. What is it with me, that I really, really, want to move in?