The van-loads of heavy goods travelled safely (and in fine weather, which is a great matter) to the cottage on Saturday, where we all slept, and Will and I made our first appearance at Mortlake Church on Sunday. We felt like “jolly squatters” yesterday, but shall be shaken into some shape by the end of a week. Poor Carry compared herself to an overboiled chicken when she woke after the fatigues of the first day’s move.
I was awoke at three o’clock on Sunday morning by a concert of a very unusual kind to my ears, and, tempted by the unwonted strains, I stole down into the garden. Day was grayly dawning in the north-east, and some light clouds floating across a pearly sky. The nightingales were sending forth interrupted capricious carols from every bush ; with a higher treble for unknown warblers, and a lower one for thrushes and blackbirds. The distant curlew kept up a running tenor accompaniment, and the more distant rookery gave out a steady bass ; with the occasional addition of the wood-pigeon’s plaintive coo-oo. Then came the echo of the cheery crow of a distant cock, the lowing of the steer, and the drowsy hum of the humble-bee. The air was fragrant with newly opening azaleas and whitethorn, and I was tempted to the brink of the little lake by the strange gambols and gyrations of the great black-backed carp. At half-past four I returned again to bed and slept till half-past nine, in comfortable instinctive unconsciousness that the whole was a reality and no early morning dream!’
Quotation from: Owen, Rev. Richard, The Life of Richard Owen by His Grandson. London: Murray, 1894. vol 1 p.384
