As my first visitor arrives – from the other side of the world, I think I have a big problem. Tiny cottage, jammed with stuff. Excessive amounts of books piled up everywhere. Boxes still everywhere. And just like in Harry Potter, perhaps there’s a little space under the stairs… for a bed. Well it sounds drastic but it works. The test of any friendship is living in close proximity with someone, it makes you appreciate the need for flexibility and how some things just don’t matter. Kiwis make great travellers, great visitors and are so easy going. Even coming from summer in Auckland to a freezing, seaside town in Ireland was not a bother to Maree. She even ventured out most mornings for a run down Dun Laoghaire Pier. Now that’s impressive in my book and hope on another European trip, Dublin hit the right notes and she’ll be back.
What I quickly realised was that though my cottage is small, it’s home. After years of being unsettled, it’s where I feel at peace and where my friends feel welcome. I may have thought nothing could compete for a place in my heart like my old house on the hill. I was wrong. I can walk past it and smile easily for the memories I shall always have. As for the house, just bricks and mortar. Only bricks and mortar after all.
