I put a mic under the velux last night and woke to find a recording of screaming gulls and the first hours of a storm. Towards the end there's just a series of oddly rhythmic bumps and shuffles that made me wonder if I'd just subjected a sensitive mic to several hours of sustained abuse.
The mic is fine though, so it could be the response of a fading battery, either way it made for interesting listening for Alex and me this morning while the next few gallons poured down onto the cottage.
Between deluges we still had visitors. Some have become regulars. Others have been drawn by stories of renovation and a feel for period detail, or are curious about the open door into a childhood mystery.A camper wandered up from Bardsea; liked the building and the 'obby 'oss but declined a look into the attic...
Ah yes, the 'oss. The 'oss has grown a jaw, and will soon be up and about on poles. Nine feet plus of occupied hollow, set to bend and sway under drapery and a winter sky.
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