The Art of Housekeeping

I haven't left the blogosphere, but I'd understand if you were beginning to wonder of my whereabouts. I've begun this many times, at the worst moments – and this is probably one I'll regret tomorrow. I've just finished my evening shift. It's past eleven and I'm tired yet wide-eyed, and my feet are too sore for sleep. I work two shifts a day and all my spare time is scheduled to the minute.

(Oh, dammit, it's already another day, so I fear this will seem disjointed and lacking in proper information but if I don't send this now, you'll never get it.)

When I left my brother gave me Dr Seuss' Oh, The Places You'll Go! that has the lines: All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone will be something you'll be quite a lot.

And that's been me quite frequently. When I first arrived in Bowness I felt like that last kid at the school gate waiting to be picked up. Then I met Matt and Simon, two 19-year-old kids from Zimbabwe, whom I want to bring home with me, and now I don't feel alone at all.

I'm living in a pipsqueak room in a tiny four-room cottage, steps away from Lindeth Fell Country House Hotel, my new place of employment. Down the drive and across the road is a field where three ponies are kept and beyond is Windermere Lake. Sometimes when I walk home from Bowness, the sun sits in that perfect spot, and my corner of the world lights up and I could stand face upturned to the warm air for ever.

Bowness-on-Windermere is 2km away and whenever I walk there I encounter tourists; there seem to be more hotels than homes, and every hour ferry boats shuttle the travellers around the lake.

I've been spending my days learning the art of housekeeping. Want your pillow plumped? I'm your girl. Towels draped perfectly over the bathroom rails? Just call my name. Bed turned down for the night? My name's in the dictionary definition. I'm less able with glassware but I don't want to peak too soon.

The other part of my day is spent practising dining room etiquette, which provides countless opportunities to do stupid things in front of strangers. I'll save these moments for another blog but I'm keeping a log in my brain. I've been asked out to afternoon tea by no less than three elderly Irish gentlemen so if you're keen for a date, Ireland's not a bad bet.

In all, I've had six days off – and I've been exploring, map in hand, flag of Maddy ready to mark new territory. I went walking in Beatrix Potter country, freely trespassing farmers' fields and getting acquainted with the local farm life. Signs ask if I can please shut the gate – gate catches here are remarkable specimens: clever, functional and aesthetically pleasing designs where Australian catches are rather boring in their sameness – which irks just a little because if nothing else Enid taught me the importance of closing a gate.

I've visited Ambleside and Grasmere, once home to William Wordsworth, and walked the Coffin route that connects them both. I've been to Keswick and Kendal and today I'll cross off Barrow on the maps I've pinned to my walls.

I have more, so much more, to say – so I'll try again soon. We have rainy days ahead, so I'll have time to update you on the adventures.

Love to you all. I hit the six-month mark a few days ago.

xxx