Two kinds, seven rooms, and no two of them the same size, because the house was not built to a plan that cared about that.
In all seven
- A wool blanket folded at the foot of the bed as well as a duvet. The power goes out in a nor'easter.
- Storm windows from November, which is why the house is quiet in January.
- A kettle, tea, and coffee ground in the galley that morning.
- No television in any room. There is one in the front room on the ground floor.
The stair
It is the 1888 stair, it is 760 millimetres wide, and it turns twice. There is no elevator and there is no room for one. A large case goes up with a bit of swearing. Tell us and somebody will carry it, and that offer is genuine rather than polite.
Arriving
Rooms are ready from three, and we ask for them back by eleven. There is parking for four cars behind the house, up the lane off Fox Street, and on-street parking everywhere else that is free and untimed outside July and August.
Winter
We stay open. Four of the seven rooms are kept warm in January and the other three are opened when they are needed, which takes a day's notice. The town in February is empty, cold, and the best it ever looks.