I’m always interested in what inspires writers. Beatrix Potter wrote those stories of anthropomorphised creatures that we read to our kids. So we stopped off to have a look at her gaff.
This is the village where Beatrix Potter shopped.
This is the house that Beatrix Potter lived in and wrote in.
This is the blossom that she would have smelt.
This is the window she peered out of to get inspiration.
These are the descendants of the rhubarb she ate.
This is Beatrix Potter standing outside her house.
This is the sitting room (complete with spinning wheel where she might have spun her yarns).
This is a little table she would have jotted down notes on.
This is a letter from her publishers which is unlike most letters I got from my publishers.
This is the piano her twinkling fingers played on.
This is the descendant of one of the cats in her stories.
This is the pub she may well have got blathered in.
This is a drawing she might have made after coming back from the pub.
This is the bed she slumbered in dreaming of the characters and story-lines for her books.
This is what she wrote when she woke up.
This is the window she would have looked out to check out guests and decide whether to open the door.
This is the view.
