‘I rather like the fact that this is exactly how so many people before us would have lived in this room. It’s pretty much unchanged’
ue Harragin has a clutch of old black-and-white photographs which, though not in any way exceptional, offer a beguiling glimpse into everyday life at her moorland cottage some 70 years ago. The neat little windows beneath the thatch are flung open to let in a spring breeze, a tiny lamb huddles next to an old garden gate, a cat stretches lazily on the dipped stone threshold, and the silhouette of a man is captured in the narrow passageway, the pages of a letter in one hand. The gnarled wooden lintel above the front door and the thick stone
