Jesamine, Molly, and me

Foraging… for a Lloyd Loom chair

Whitstable, Kent

I’ve been decorating my family room – a room at the back of the house that opens up onto the garden. I sit here a lot to read and watch the birds. I plan my trips and listen to the radio. On some evenings I browse through CDs and LPs and if I’m brave enough, I’ll revisit the past. It’s a special room. An extension that Tim and I added many years ago. In the winter we’d sometimes spend a lazy Sunday afternoon in here reading the papers and doing the crossword with the fire blazing. Since Tim died I’ve felt his absence in this room more than in any other and so I took the huge (for me) decision to give it a makeover. To make it mine but to keep the the little flourishes of our life together: photographs, pictures, ornaments…

Lovely son moved into a flat a while ago and I gave him the two-seat sofa from the room. His need was greater than mine at the time! As part of the makeover I’m going with comfy chairs. I already have two that I love and I decided that a Lloyd Loom chair would be just the thing to complement the others. And wouldn’t you know it – I found a lovely lady selling just the thing in Canterbury. Yay! I thought. Road trip!

Jesamine went like a dream. Molly stretched out and slept most of the way. I picked up the chair with no problems and it seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful day so we carried on a little way to Whitstable. I adore Whitstable. The sea here is different to my world of estuaries, salt marshes, and the raw North Sea. Somehow, at Whitstable, the sea seems gracious.

We were lucky to find a parking space right on the sea front and Molly and I walked along towards Herne Bay, enjoying the sunshine. Families zipped around us on bikes and scooters, Molly pranced and danced, sniffing the air. I bought some chips (well, I was at the seaside) and took them back to the van. Feeling gracious and refined, I sat in my Lloyd Loom chair with Jesamine’s door open, and Molly and I looked out across the sea while I ate my chips.

We stayed all day, not caring about the rush-hour traffic on the way home. I even enjoyed the queue at the Dartford Crossing as we waited to drive through the tunnel. I was full of romance… and chips. I told lovely daughter all about this wondrous day when I spoke to her on the phone. Her view of the day wasn’t quite the same as mine.

‘Oh, God!’ she said. ‘You’re turning into The Lady in the Van!’

You know, she may be right. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d mind that very much at all.*

*If I could live in my van beside the sea and have central heating and a bathroom, and a washing machine, and not just chips all the time…..