The house was well endowned with all the trimmings one might expect of such a bejewelled inheritance. The acherage was respectable yet delicate, producing plants of previously unseen characters. From the corners of the brittanic gardens grew nettles, foxtrot and matterhorns, wreathing in the torrent as they writhered and tethered in an endless myriad of questionable integrity. The house was a tourist abacus of preservation, a tudor style monster visible from the south exits of London, soaring one hundred and twelve metres high. It appeared box like from such distances, criticised as an example of how far one can go, and how the domestic height limits around London were apparently not set in steel. Inside was riddled with oak and walnut skirtings, polished and tapered with the finest of pleasantries. Masonry and antlership "hung high" crowning the veneered cherrywood instalments, serving as fraudulent apertures to the latticework of hallways. The etchings of the late countess lay abrupt above the stairs, watching from the shadows amongst a feast of pecan framework. High amongst the triforium lived a family of third generation Danish pigeons who made use of .
chanderleerettes as convenient perchings, their shit, raining down daily onto the checkerboard hastings, a unison of ebony and ivory which caused those who walked its surface to bemuse the position of a chess piece. .
The pigeons stood as "long time no go" adversaries to the droves of unchartered pondlife now existing under the floorboards, they fed on millflour carried by the breeze, and it was not uncommon for a curious pigeon to sneak a currant from the kitchen. In came a quintet of primp filigree poodles, plucked and curled, twisted and spoilt after rude cosmetology and unwilling ribonry. Lazy Daisy style French knotting now took place of what was once real hair, as yapping rats tap danced their way to the top. In she came! "spinning!" added Charlotte raising her dual pronged fork in Edwardian contribution.