Past the hallway, that opens out at the back end of these two downstairs rooms here in the original house. Worked as a kind of a wind-and-weather trap, I’d guess. Though I don’t remember them ever using that doorway: they always used the kitchen door instead. Front door was for weddings and funerals, was the old country tradition round here – maybe they thought the same?

Into the other room here, in the old living-room – the parlour, as they called it.

And, ah, okay, the dining table has ended up in here. Along with piles upon piles of newspapers, opened out across the table, and in neat stacks spread out all over the floor. Spread out over several years, by the look of it, and spread out all over the country, too – but all local papers only, it seems. Maybe Aunt Kat was searching for someone, or something – too small and unimportant to catch anyone’s notice at a national level? No idea what that was about.

Stairs are over on the far well, but I don’t have time to go up there just yet.

Other than that, a small sofa and a few chairs down here, and a couple of bookshelves, mostly old novels from the 1930s. Nothing newer than that, anyway.

Nothing of interest here, to be honest.