Just over a year ago, I wrote about the cottage where my grandmother grew up. The photos in that post were taken by my dad. After a failed attempt earlier this year when we nearly ended up on Ministry of Defence land, today the elder of my two nieces and I found the right path to the cottage so that we could see it for ourselves.
It wasn’t the best weather for exploring: constant rain and very muddy. Also, I had to backtrack in a big way when, after assuring my niece that no one would be about at this time of year in such bad weather (‘No, I can’t see a man behind the tree…’), we stumbled across a shoot. Fortunately, as intimidating as it is to come across several men with guns in the middle of a wood, everything of interest to them was in the opposite direction to that in which we were heading.
The front door of The Thrift was wide open, so I was able to take photos of its interior rooms. N.B. My niece stayed safely outside the building and had a working phone with her, and her mum (who’s less keen on mud) was parked less than a ten-minute walk away.
The cottage was much smaller than I remembered, but then I’m at least twenty years older than the last time I was there. I was pleased that so much of it was still standing for my niece to see. She was impressed that her great-grandmother got her own water from a stream and hiked across fields to work.