28October2025 Diary
Two years ago my world turned upside down. My father passed away and, after twenty years of marriage, I found myself divorced. With the loss of my job I moved back into my dads cottage in the Cotswolds, just as I was hitting forty and convinced there was no hope left for a decent job or a new relationship.
Misfortune seemed to follow me at every turn. The thatch roof, patched by a local handyman, started leaking, and I didnt have the strength to haul timber. The contractors who replaced the timber windows never finished the job properly, so drafts slipped through the gaps. To keep warm I gathered pine cones and, absurdly, used the stacks of books I had to stoke the old stove. Then the electricity went out, forcing me to turn the heating off entirely.
The owner of the pub opposite my garden began offering me hot cups of tea and a place to warm my hands, leaving me to wonder whether I should laugh or weep. I thought things couldnt get any worse, yet suddenly everything began to improve.
One chilly morning at the village bus stop, a van pulled up and a man stepped out. His hair was tousled, his overalls smeared with sawdusthe was a roofer by trade. He asked if I needed any help. I admitted I did, but I had nothing to pay him with. He simply said, When youve got a pound, well settle it then.
He repaired the roof, fixed the leaky tap, replaced the water meter, mended the garden fence, rebuilt the steps and repaired the windows. One night, in the depth of a bitter frost, I came home to find a modest fire glowing in the hearth and a steaming mug of herbal tea waiting beside it. It felt like a miracle for my frozen throat and icy feet.
I now know who my hero is, though I keep his name hidden out of modestyour little village is small enough that everyone would recognize him. The work hes done has left a distinctly masculine touch on the cottage and its garden. With my prince I feel a warmth I have not known for years, and I am happy, though a part of me fears the day I might lose him.
Emily ClarkeI cherish each quiet morning we share, hoping that the love weve built will endure long after the last roof tile is set.
