Traveller in An Antique Land

A Room of My Own

The nausea didn't begin until the descent. 7 1/2 hours of a settled stomach were lovely, and the ache between my ribs and bellybutton that began as the "Fasten seatbelt" sign lit up just did not please me. I breathed deeply, closed my eyes, and tried not to think about what was happening. I was not caving into my shy nature by not speaking to the girl seated next to me. I was not stealing the socks Virgin Atlantic provided. I was not arriving at my new home without grieving the loss of my permanent one. I was in a temporary state of queasy denial, refusing to accept the situation I had begun to get myself into months ago. Later, K, the woman I'm working for, asked if it (meaning the area, I think) was what I expected. Inveterate truth teller that I am, I had to confess that I hadn't really expected anything. I had no idea what was coming. I couldn't think about it, or I would have drowned a pool of nerves.

As it turns out, it seems there was little to be nervous about, anyway. My flight departed and arrived on time. I got through immigration with a mere cursory glance at my German passport. My luggage was waiting on Belt 2 in Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport, and as I had nothing to declare, I passed straight through to the main terminal. Just on the other side, I quickly spotted a small sign with "JENNIFER" written on it being held by K. The meeting was surprisingly painless; there were a few awkward moments, but we seem to get on well. We have similar taste in music, and found enough common ground to survive a 2-hour car ride, though she's much more outgoing than I am. The little girl I'm taking care of, M, is away on holiday with her dad, but K assures me she's excited to meet me. After getting to spend a few hours in my new house and see my new private space, I'm looking forward to it as well. I think I will be comfortable here, and that will make me much more confident with her. She still sounds like a bright girl (She just turned 7, and is reading Harry Potter by herself.), and I've seen her room now, which I feel does say something about her. I think it'll be all right. My room is lovely, too. It's on the upper floor and has a huge double bed (Actually, I think that's rather a shame, as it's such a small room.) and a wardrobe. We'll install shelves and put together a dresser; the biggest disadvantage to my room is that there's no storage space, not even an underbed. Sadly, there's no room for a desk, but I think I'll be able to use my windowsill. The view is nice--I'm overlooking the garden and from my bed see only trees. I also have my own bathroom with an amazing tub and an equally amazing view of the garden and the neighbors' gardens. I think I'll adjust to this place well. It's quiet and beautiful and feels quintessentially English. I'll put pictures of the lane we drove down on Flickr later. I've hardly seen anything more poetic. I may head to my first pub quiz tonight, as K often goes.

posted by Jennifer @ 7:48 AM