Back to the Shire

This newsletter comes live and direct from the living room hearth of my childhood home in Herefordshire. When I lived here full time, a two-tier side table proved the perfect headrest for me to lie down and scroll Wikipedia for hours, in front of what was then an open fire. It’s now over a decade since this two-bedroom cottage in the middle of the English countryside was my primary address. Naked flame has been contained by a woodburner and the headrest side-table is on some scrapheap. But still: this is my spot.

My cottage-core is not a costume.

I’m back here for six whole days this Christmas, potentially the longest stretch since leaving for university in London all those years ago. Once installed in the big city, I spent summers there. Visits home were scarce and short, and that’s the way it’s been ever since.

When I was younger, this was because I thought there were better ways to spend my time. Nowadays, it’s because I can’t drive. I’d stay longer if I could get out and about. But my actual home is so rural, it’s not even situated in anything as solid as a village. The best way to describe my upbringing is that I get choked up when I hear Ed Sheeran’s ‘Castle On The Hill’ (our local castle is on a promontory rather than a hill, but still), and we used to joke that the movie ‘Hot Fuzz’ was a documentary.