Only it won’t be an earthquake - not in England, England isn’t seismic - it will be a gradual crumbling. - Vita Sackville-West

I saw within the wheelwright’s shed The big round cartwheels, blue and red; A plough with blunted share; A blue tin jug; a broken chair; And paint in trial patchwork square Slapping up against the wall; The lumber of the wheelwright’s trade, And tools on benches neatly laid, The brace, the adze, the awl;

As each man knows the life that fits him best,
The shape it makes in his soul, the tune, the tone

My bed's at least nine foot wide, and I feel like the Princes and the Pea, - only there is no Pea. It is a four-poster, all of which I like. Come and see for yourself.