Yes, I'm writing you an essay as if I'm still in primary school because this holiday was worth writing about. I was hoping to get a week off work but between December Decembering, rheumatoid arthritis, and procrastination, I did not finish my assigned work (and not all of it) until the 24th morning.
Let's see there was a lot of swimming done.
Birthday Lunches
got a new tattoo
got a dog.
As you can see, I was super busy.
So anyway, on the 24th, we set out for Weathercock House in Limuru. Yes, just as the name suggests, it was a colonial throwback to the glory days of the empire.
We arrived quite late what with rushing to finish work, the mechanic taking his time making the car roadworthy, and shopping for supplies. When we got there, the house was on top of a hill and the car kinda refused to climb it.
Stress.
However, Timothy, the owner of Weathercock house offered to drive the car up the hill and proceeded to do some four-wheel drive shit on my poor not four-wheel drive car. The sun was just setting over the property and it bathed the garden in beautiful golden light. And what a garden it was. It's the reason I'm writing this essay.
Sadness ensued.
But we had with us, some frozen chips and chicken pieces as well as salad. We had wine, we had ice cream, we had chocolate chip cookies. We made do. Happily, we'd hired a chef for the next day so that was taken care of.
An actual fire in a fireplace. A 72-inch tv. and creepy ass pictures on the wall. Weathercock House was like a journey into my own past. I grew up in a neighborhood where every other house had a zebra skin on the wall. Seeing it brought back memories of tagging along with my mother to visit her friends.
The kitchen had an honest to god Aga. The fridge was from 1950 but in very good working condition. The same could be said for the bathrooms, absolute 80s decor, except for the instant shower which was the only thing not working up to standard. A real pity since I really wanted to take a bath in the bathtub. Really relive my childhood.
The bed was like sleeping on a cloud.
However...
Creepiness abounded as I said. There was, what I eventually realized was a 'service corridor' which actually ran parallel to the main corridor. The bedrooms were in an entirely other 'wing' of the house - very helpful for me to picture the manor houses I write about in Regency romances. And there was a hidden staircase that led to an attic - which I immediately decided was occupied by the ghost of this guy.
That wasn't the only creepy picture in the house. There were several.
But there was also a very cute little bar in the second part of the sitting room (it had three parts) and the reading nook was to die for. They let us have one pet so we brought our dog, who we thought was Alejandro at the time, but turns out she's Alejandra.
She was remarkably well-behaved. Didn't poop in the house once.
We woke the next day to a breakfast that was mid at best. I wasn't holding out much hope for the chef. But again, we had ice cream, we had Amarula, we had chocolate and we had the great outdoors.
The gardens were remarkable. At least 40 years old, the trees were living things. We could feel their spirits. If there was anything that cemented to me the importance of conservation, it was being in the presence of those trees. So old that other plants had rooted in them so that every tree was festooned with at least two other trees, a vine and a flowering plant all tangled together and growing from a single root it seemed. Just standing beneath those trees was a spiritual experience.
Lunch was a million times better and so was dinner. Chris and I pretended to be slaves who had broken into master's house to drink his wine.
Then we shot some sort of gangster movie that I'm still waiting to see. (Chris says he's editing). All in all, as Christmas goes, I'm counting it as one of my best - peaceful, full of love and food and rest. The journey back to Nairobi was also super smooth. And that's my Christmas holiday. If you want to tell me about yours, feel free.
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