
A doorway still open: Mavis at No. 3.
A short essay on what it means to live a long life in one street, and then to be asked to leave it. With photographs by a trustee.
Read essayOur writing is slow on purpose. We write at Lady Day, at Midsummer, at Michaelmas and at Christmas — and sometimes between, when something deserves an unhurried record. Below are the pieces we have written this year, longest first.

A short essay on what it means to live a long life in one street, and then to be asked to leave it. With photographs by a trustee.
Read essay
A morning with Bert, our retired long-haul driver, and the wheelbarrow he has come to consider an old friend.
Read essay
On Elspeth's first winter at Smale's Cottages, and the apple tree she has decided to outlast.
Read essay
Our coal merchant rings on a frosty Monday morning to ask if we'd mind a delivery before Stir-up Sunday. We would not.
Read note
The trustees' note opening the £45,000 roof appeal, with photographs of the slate damage taken at first light.
Read appeal
The trustees' autumn letter, with a list of plants Thomas has put in for next year and a small note on the compost heap.
Read dispatch
A short report from this year's midsummer tea, with a quiet address by Reverend Darlington and a great deal of Victoria sponge.
Read note
Our librarian's annual handover note, with a list of the most-borrowed books of the past year and a small reading recommendation.
Read note
A short welcome to David, our newest resident, with a few lines on the small ceremony at which his key was passed across the courtyard.
Read welcomeThe full archive of dispatches, going back to the 1986 borrowing-book era, is held in the office at Beatrice Street and may be inspected on request.