Sunday, 29 November 2015

Shops and Robins

A couple of days ago a Facebook friend posted this robin message. It struck a chord as a few weeks ago my partner's mother mentioned she had been in the garden shed sorting out apples from her garden when a robin flew in and refused to leave for about ten minutes, just sitting on the work bench as it watched her. A couple of months previously she had lost her husband after a long illness. His name? Robin! I joked that perhaps it was a sign from him, but something that the rest of us would leap at as a sign, she still seemed doubtful about. It would take a lot to convince her mathematical and no nonsense nature, which is not given to any kind of flight of fancy.

Work has been exceptionally busy lately as I project-managed the refurbishment of an emtpy run-down Victorian shop into a new off-campus housing and advice base for the University of Sussex on top of the rigors of the day job. There were weeks where I literally ate, breathed and slept the shop and most of my own life went out the window, but luckily it was all ready on time for the launch and has been very well received. For my part it has been a pleasure to breath new life into a beautiful old building and ensure it retained its character amidst incorporating the necessary mod cons and professional finish. It was one of those gems that every little girl dreams of opening a shop in - full of space and light with wide double-fronted window seat areas.

Now I have gone back to one of my other projects - which is setting up a website for Brighton and Hove Heritage Commission, a campaigning group intent on saving Brighton and Hove's increasingly threatened heritage.


Anne Roy said...

Stranger things have happened ... the day my dear father died (in Canada) I went to the local drugstore where one of the staff was speaking with someone with an English accent and when asked where she was from in London she said 'Marylebone' which is where my father was born.

Wisewebwoman said...

These harbingers can touch the heart. Now and again I smell my father's cigar in my house, a very odd thing as no one ever smokes in my house - it must be a combination of something else but I always say, quite casually "Oh, hi Dad!"

Congrats on a job well done, fabulous photo of you.


Nota Bene said...

I'd never heard's a lovely thought.

Good luck with the heritage task...such a worthwhile thing to be doing given Brighton's prediliction for detroying its beautiful past. I hear the Hippodorme may get revived.