ECHO 7/12/05

Jumble house on Tewke’s high street – some Victorian treasure trove or secret place behind the wooden door, walking off the street into realm of higgledy-piggledy artifacts and antiques, bric-a-brac from all ages: enthralling, magical – glass and mirrors placed amid giant dressers standing eight foot high, or peeling chests of drawers with their ripe marquetry alive with the shades of early winter there with leaves that have fallen from overhanging trees and remain vibrant yellow/brown/red; Edwardian chemist signs placed on their foot end and rising with huge gold letters up toward the roof, a Hollywood film poster thrown in for good measure; a huge enamel bath-tub big enough to fit a small whale in directs you up toward the side door where crocodiles have been painted on the wooden floorboards; and beyond this the walled garden is like a discovery full of small arboreta, broken glasshouses and odd silver owls placed among the windfall apples.