Peter borrowed some water-colour paints and did a faithful, elegant picture of the mill as it was, including the edge of a tin hut belonging to the Campbells [see note]. This shows the tent in which we ate and slept but not Gale’s little tent with its patchwork quilt. It hung in the Mill sitting-room for many years. The large empty view past the laburnum and mill building became our garden.

In a few days we began to get to know the Campbells. Yvonne had a very fine baby’s shawl, some kind of family heirloom, which was in a bad condition, and as my fingers were starting to get itchy for lack of handwork I took on the task of mending it for her. We caught a bus down to Felixstowe to explore the town and beach and have a bathe. Bob asked Peter if he would mind if I sat for him for a figure drawing. I was used to posing for Peter, though he generally chose mid-winter for his artistic endevours, so that I roasted one side and froze the other, so that was no problem. There was the rest of Kirton village to explore. We found three pubs. At the far end was The Greyhound, which seemed the oldest building in the village. In the middle, nearly opposite the Co-op and near the village shop was The White Horse, kept by Mr Hopeful Brown, and a mile away, really in the next village of Falkenham, was The Dog, another really old pub that kept its beer in the cellar. Each had a “twirler” on the ceiling beams, and a thing like a blackboard pointer kept to spin the arrow to decide who would pay for the drinks. But having Gale, who was now coming up to her sixth birthday, and having very little spare money, we could only chalk up the delights of country pubs as a pleasure for the future. For Peter, above all, he was surrounded by his real countryside, and for me, the seaside was only four and a half miles away by bike or bus. Gale, as all children must, accepted life without complaint.

In a few days Birkin was back with plans for a circular extension which would have made the finished house a figure of eight. I think he knew it would be too expensive for us, but hoped against hope to be allowed to design something really interesting. Sadly he took it away and came back with an ordinary rectangular building to be joined to the mill by a panel of windows next to the stairs. This, he explained, was in case the old mill shifted at a different pace from the new building. We were to have what seemed to us a minimum – downstairs a bathroom, separate lavatory, and a kitchen-diner – upstairs two bedrooms, one small one for Gale and one to be Peter’s study and a guest room. Our bedroom would be upstairs in the mill, and our sitting-room downstairs with a chimney and noble fireplace where the door now was. Both mill rooms would be big – twenty feet diameter at the largest and down to about twelve feet where the buttresses stuck out. He explained that the work could count as

Note: Diana’s original text read “It hangs in the Mill sitting room now” and “The large empty view...is now our garden”; I updated this to reflect the situation in 2005 when the website was created. The original picture is now in the possession of a family friend, but a copy of it can be viewed on the website gallery. SW