Oh to be here.
A good visit with Grandmama and the children having fun. Easier. Townhouse in London and Christmas but everyone stuck inside most of the time. Not like the island in July with something new to explore every day and islets to row out to for picnics.
A treat. The job ended and the next one yet to start. Hard what with the interviews and all but more time at least for a while. No jobs in Skye at least not for that sort of thing and a hacking outfit worn each day instead of a suit and pearls and a nervous attack each time the interviewer opens his mouth. No little white gloves, either. Part of life in London but hands free here. Funny. Everyone else liking them but so itchy they always are. But something ladies need at least in the big places.
Time to breathe free and rest. Well, almost free. Grandmama needing help going through things in the back maid’s room to make room for a nanny for the smallest grandchildren. Box after box of who knows what, only one maid for decades and the other room allowed to fill up.
Three hours until tea and time to begin. Some fizzy pop and a deep breath as dust rises into the air from the portfolios stacked in a heap.
But something fun. Two boys and a picture from way back.
Grandmother’s uncle it must be or a cousin. . . hard to know . . . not living all that long in the end. One taken at Rooiwai fighting the Boers and another drowned getting drunk and falling off a bridge near Victoria Falls. . . .far away yes but home now . . .all that counts.