The first job I had here was a summer job at the Perkins House, guiding tourists through a home-turned-museum, dressed in period costume. The first two weeks were chaotic - getting the facts down and working them into a spiel- Simeon Perkins had a long and illustrious career, and a busy life - remembering what happened when (especially with nine children thrown into the mix) was tricky, at best.
(Nice, isn't it? It was built in 1766.)
The house was darker than you'd imagine, and filled with treasures that made that time in history come alive. I used to love dusting it - picking up small objects, wondering whose hands had held it before, peeking in the many drawers of the desk. The period dress (nothing so fine as you might think, we were dressed in homespun dresses, with aprons and mob caps) was itchy, usually hot, and always easy to trip over. But the tourists were interesting and it was a fun, engaging job.
The nicest part, though, was when there was a lull. We would go outside and sit on the benches under the huge old trees, laughing or doing handiwork or just smelling the good sea air and the old-fashioned roses, looking all the world like time had stood still, and we would soon be called in to begin supper.
It was a nice summer.