It may be in part because I just read the new biography of Agatha Christie.  More likely it is because I am a nut about houses...not big fancy ones, but in particular small ones, the kind of little village houses that I think Miss Marple must have lived in.

Here are a couple that I found on the internet simply by googling "quaint cottages":



And neither of these looks at all like the (real) one that I am somewhat obsessed by. I pass it whenever I go to the library, which I do often.  I don't know who lives in it, and I certainly can't photograph it and put it out here on the internet, where someone would inevitably call the owner or resident and say: Guess what.

So you will have to take my word for it when I say it is exactly the house I want to live in when I am old and alone except for a dog or cat.  It is quite small.  But I won't need a car (some young friend will have to do my grocery shopping and take me to the doctor when my arthritis acts up). 

It  needs paint, and a better garden. Every time I drive past it and slow down, I consider what color I will paint it, and what flowers I will plant. (I find myself arguing with myself about whether window boxes (nasturtiums, I'm  imagining) would be de trop).  But even without those bits of sprucing up, the house has real character. Good bones.   I have never seen the inside. But I have chosen paint colors for each room.

 And yes: on this topic I am totally nuts.