perfect riposte to those who feel the world is crumbling around us. The formal living and dining room have nearly unreachable ceilings and plaster mouldings. Serious plans have been hatched, I bet, in these spacious parlours, secrets confided amid the cool lath and plaster. There are three fireplaces (including one in the largest of the second-floor bedrooms), more staircases than I could count, and a very rare “horsewalk” – an interior alleyway intended to permit a horse to be moved into long-gone rear stables. A window on the landing between floors is so large that one could launch a shuttle from it. The recent addition contains a main-floor bedroom (we’re up to five now), and a bathroom (that makes three), as well as a breakfast room that faces the pretty garden, like something out of Evelyn Waugh. You expect Anthony Hopkins to appear with pastries. Up on the finished third floor you might install a guest suite, or hobby room, a cinema, or bed-sit. The lot is L-shaped, having merged with an old property that exits onto Lower Union Street. There is parking and a winding, contemplative walkway. It is hard to know where to stop. I wrote some of these words on-site, and felt strongly in these rooms that I was being shown a more hopeful way of thinking about the world, a comforting blend of history and perspective, a glimpse of what is still possible if only you look hard enough. (id:62783)