Some said she was a little strange. She carried a fascination for those who had gone before, the women stitched into tapestry, their stories woven in threads of bold colour. She lingered on the courts of medieval and Tudor queens, crowned in glory only to fall from favour. She read omens in storm clouds, in the circling of buzzards, downfall whispered in their wings. Was it hers they foresaw, or the church’s? I’m obsessed with the Tudors and Medieval history so getting to look around Haddon...
