When you are invalided out of the main action for a month you have the opportunity to review, if not life and the universe ( far too broad) but more precisely, hearth and home.
We have lived in this house which is at least 250 years old for thirty six of its years. And for all that time we have stepped down about 9" from the porch into the living area.
We have brought babies in prams down into our house, negotiated large pieces of furniture through our ancient doorway and shoved teetering grannies back up the step and on their way ( whether it was time to leave or not) with not so much as a passing thought as to how awkward a manoeuvre this has been for us all.
It took a gammy leg ( bunion-side) to realise that stepping down into our house was an unnecessarily painful process.
A dear friend of ours, a talented artist and restorer of furniture has made us a new step. Beautifully. Out of old oak, it looks as though it's been here as long as the ancient parquet itself.
Like any modification it requires some readjustment. So I have put up a 'Step Alert ' sign as a warning to unwary guests and harassed husband.
Polished and gleaming, it is a subtle enhancement to our lives and a metaphor made flesh in terms of a new step forward.
Excuse me while I apply my ice pack to Dearest's stubbed toe whilst picking up his scattered files and making supper.
Normality is in the air. Which is a curious shade of blue.
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