Life is a Journey: Live it (Part 47)

The other autobiography
During the mornings I renovated The Abbey, later the cottage. It was interesting manual work. To plaster the walls in the courtyard when even the architect responsible for the project did not know exactly what to do was exciting. In the attic, I finished coating the old beams with protective paint against insects. At the cottage, I scraped the walls, fixed plaster under the beams, and helped fix an iron rod above the entrance to hold the whole house together. In the open logia at the back of the cottage Rudi, a carpenter from Germany looking for adventure fixed the roof asking me to assist him. I never thought manual work would bring me joy. This kind of work was not what I loved most.

The estate grounds around the entrance and opposite The Abbey were covered in high grass. At some places reaching to my shoulders about 1,60-1,80 meters high. For an old Abbey with its enormous history far too high. The Abbey was home to the largest document collection of works, papers, books, and recordings about Mahatma Gandhi. Fred Blum had interviewed several of his closest allies and Anne West, a translator for the Secret Service during WWII living in Abingdon was mandated to put the interviews down on paper. She came on Monday afternoons collecting her work and on Tuesday the following week at the Community Dinner sharp at seven o’clock, Fred Blum gave her the finished papers.

As it was the campsite for the British Gandhi Foundation seeing Lords, Dukes, Earls and other Royals arrive in their luxurious cars, get out, change into humble clothes, set up their simple tents, bake bread in our kitchen as Gandhi would have done to live his simple life each year for two weeks.

It was therefore my greatest pleasure and joy to drive our newly bought used lawnmower much like a small tractor around the grassland. It was my ambition to cut the high grass and turn it into very short cut English grass. I wanted to create the best cut lawn and have the best-kept grass anyone would love to sit on. When the Royals first showed up the lawns around the buildings were spot on, sparkling green. Under the trees along the red brick wall to our neighbours across from The Abbey entrance, I cut free several old stones. They marked the burial sites of the pets, mainly dogs used by the owners of The Abbey over the centuries.

In the afternoons I applied for jobs in all corners of the UK. As a German academic with experience in education, I was convinced over time to find my place in the UK and settle down. If I was not busy sending out job applications I sat out on the back lawn enjoying the sun, sat in my upstairs room next to the room of Lucy Champagner's room, meditated in the small room under the attic, wrote letters or books, dreamt myself into my fantasy world, took my bike along the River Thames to Oxford or Brazier's Park. Countless times I walked around Oxford and enjoyed the atmosphere of knowledge. The city was quiet but never empty. It felt like a library where visitors are advised to keep quiet while reading.

When Aunty Eva Weatherill and Uncle Michael took me to Cambridge less than one hour's drive from their house in Wellingborough heaven came down from the skies.

   Comments0