Sunday Morning in my Favourite Room

It is Sunday. It's grey and overcast with the promise of rain. The trees are gently swaying in the breeze. I am in the dining room looking out my french windows into the garden, watching two chickens scratching for food. It is quiet in the house except for the ticking clock. Feels like a scene from an Agatha Christie murder mystery. Just hope there isn't a body in the bathroom. I'm just chillin' (as those young folk say), enjoying the solitude, losing myself in my own thoughts. It is not often that I get time to do this, so I making the most of a Sunday morning coffee before the day kicks off.

And what better way than to spend it in my favourite room in the house. Not because it has eleven bottles of red wine on the neighbouring shelf, but because of the feel of the room. There is something quite comforting and warm about the dining room. That much so, that I bought a small armchair so that I can hide out in here and read, or enjoy the garden without actually being outside when it is cold and wet.

It may seem odd that the dining room is my favourite location but the room has plenty of things within it that add to that pleasant and agreeable feeling. In the corner of the room stands a grand-daughter clock. It belonged to my Granny and used to be in her dining room of her Gloucestershire home. As a child on visits, my sister and I used to sleep in her dining room, and I can still remember the quietness of the village, moonlight streaming through the window and the gentle ticking of the grand-duaghter clock. Childhood memories, but also brings back memories of the large unit with glass doors that looked like a monster, also located in Granny's dining room, which made me feel very uneasy as I was trying to fall asleep. Thankfully, that unit found a resting place with one of my cousins.

My room is a haven of memories and connections - brass candlesticks given to me by my Uncle, black and white photographs of my grandparents, an Edwardian cake stand from my dear friend Ces, a souvenir plate with map of Sri Lanka from Amma and Ththatha, a ceramic poppy from the Tower of London and the green and purple miniature Eiffel Towers, souvenirs purchased by Naomi on a school trip. A mixture of old and new, but all with links and fond memories.

Many of us have items in our own houses that have connections or reminders. For me, it is comforting to have these things around me. This eclectic mix of objects evoke memories, and associations with people no longer with us as well as connections with more recent events, and people who are still around. Sometimes I have not even met these people. In the corner of the room is a barley twist folding dining table made by my Grandad in the 1930s. Sadly, he died before I was born but his creativity is in this room - around the walls are some of his paintings. A photograph of him in flat cap is on display which sits next to the fishing floats that he made. It is lovely to have a little bit of him in this room with me.

In contrast, on a table in the corner lays a partially completed painting by numbers. Purchased by the tall child near the start of lockdown, it shows a scene of a couple walking by the River Seine. The canvas is covered in black streaks and blobs - she hasn't ventured onto the more vibrant colours as yet. The painting activity was designed to fill the long hours of being stuck in the house with her mother. Of course, it has to compete with Netflix and baking. Also located in here is a painting by my Granny of a market scene in Osnabruck in Germany. Within the painting are two children - my sister and I - looking at the markets' flowers. It may not be a Van Gogh or Picasso, but it is a visual reminder of times gone by. This is part of my dining room 'museum'  highlighting different aspects of my life, containing family connections to modern day asquisitions. Overseen by school snapshots, and black and white family photos, it is not such a bad way to start my Sunday morning.