Life is the tiniest bit crazy at the moment. Lets face it, actually, the world is the tiniest bit crazy at the moment. When the world or my life trespasses over into “I. Have. Had. Enough. Of. This!” territory, I brew up a cup of Earl Grey or six and transport myself into the realm of impossibly possible dreams. I am certain we all have that place we go when we want to live exactly as we were meant to live if some rude imposter had not stolen our real life and replaced it with this hectic, maddening, and frankly annoying existence we are expected to make our way through until someone realizes their mistake and drops us back into the life we were born to appreciate. And if you don’t have that place and those thoughts, humor me. They say it is dangerous to challenge a madwoman’s delusions.

Today, I want to introduce you to the form my Happy Place, for lack of a better and less gooey New Age term, usually takes. Here are a few of my favorite retreats.

I love this one for the lighting alone. What’s not to love about these chandeliers?

The library at Wimpole Hall. Home to 12,000 books. Any questions?

The library at Blickling Hall. Look at all of that natural light.

Ramerscale House Library.

Those carpets! And the globes!

Harewood House’s library has a collection of over 14,000 books. This could take some time.

  It needs a comfy chair, but that ceiling!

And the Nirvana of stately home libraries – Chatsworth – within whose walls over 20,000 books reside. Sigh!

The land of impossibly possible dreams is the best place to be when the world threatens to overrun you and the barbarians are beating at the gates of your mind. My library at home does not resemble these libraries in any way save for it has shelves and books. However, with enough Earl Grey, a comfortable chair, a purring tabby and a few snoring dogs, I can transport myself to one of these heavenly spots and escape for a while. I am a writer. I spend a great deal of time living in my imagination. They know me there, right down to the way I like my tea and the jam I like on my scones.

Here’s to those havens in our imaginations. And to dreaming our way to making them a reality. And if all else fails, here’s to the places and people and things that keep us sane in a crazy world. Hathaway, are there anymore scones? I still have a few more chapters to read before bed.


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