When I got to the manse this morning there were men inside.
It was a little shocking, since I've been working here for I-don't-know-how-long and it's always been me and the empty house. But here was a face at the door, letting me in!
A surreal moment, to say the least.
(I checked to make sure he was wearing clothes appropriate for this century - who's to say this old house doesn't have spirits? Although why they would appear now after all this time would be puzzling.....)
He's a contractor. He's here to build a bathroom in the office. Which means the church is one more step closer to either renting out or possibly selling this lovely old building.
Which makes me very sad.
It's a hopeless longing, because I'd never a) get B to move here and b) never get the money together in time, plus it's c) in town and B will combust if hemmed in with other houses (I kid. Sorta.) and I'd rather the chilluns grew up out country than here (not to slag on the school system here, but have I mentioned how much I like the little schoolhouse?)
But on the other hand, someone should love this house. And live in it.
Bring laughter to it again.