Suffolkating: welcome to the country

"Next morning, everything's brighter. The sun shines; through the front window we inspect black shapes in the field opposite (unable to find the binoculars we are unable to decide if they're sheep or cows). Out back there's a 150-foot garden, leading down to a clump of trees where the kids insist I must build a tree house and a trickle of a stream which you cross via rickety bridge and stile to a meadow where horses accept apples from your hand. In the decrepit summerhouse from which we have rescued the cats I shall write my Great English Novel; and in the shed I will somehow construct rudimentary furniture and make our house a palace fit for Islingtonians..."

READ THE REST OF MY LATEST "SUFFOLKATING" BLOG AT THE HUFFINGTON POST