About the Author

Jay Lawrence grew up in a rambling 300-year-old house, divided since the 19th century into flats, offices and workshops, but with many cracks and tunnels and lost rooms through which a child could glimpse moments of its long history.

“I remember one door behind a cupboard which led to a forgotten clerk’s office, long since filled with paperwork dating from the 1830s onwards.  A crusted inkpot and pen still rested on the top of the standing desk, and under a drift of letters, contracts, maps and inventories three foot deep I found the cinders of the last fire in the hearth, and a little dish on the fender with the ashes of the clerk’s lunch, as desiccated as Miss Havisham’s wedding feast.

I suppose I’ve been burrowing through dry documents to the lived past ever since.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s