The drive was long, it took ages. Just endless fields and forests. No shops, hardly and cars, and not even a petrol station to be seen for miles. After about a 3 hour journey we took a stop, just to get out the car and stretch, before the other two hours of driving into the middle of no-where. It was cold, about 11am, and I was just tired.
Finally we got there, and it was so quiet, all you could here was the trickle of the river across the road. There was a note on the door, from the house keeper, saying welcome. We went inside, I had a browse around the house, it was a nice little cottage, the bathroom was lovely. But it looked like it could hold some sort of mystery, anything at all. I checked every cupboard and drawer in the house. Nothing. I looked in all the litttle trinkets, and in all the little topped dishes. There was a book shelf, mountained up with every kind of book, some I had read before, and some I had never heard of, and looked very old, I opened every book and flicked through it, to see if anybody or thing left a note, or something like that in the books. Yet again, Nothing. There was one cupboard under the stairs, that was filled with topped dishes, tubs, and boxes. The moment I saw them I was almost certain that a mystery could lie here. But, nothing. This was really starting to get at me, I thought this holiday was just going to be like every other, and not have anything interesting to research on or explore.
The rest of the day was just un-packing, and watching tv.
