Jane Austen (1775–1817)
Austen never lived alone and had little expectation of solitude in her daily life. Her final home, a cottage in the village of Chawton, England, was no exception: she lived there with her mother, her sister, a close friend, and three servants, and there was a steady stream of visitors, often unannounced.
...
Austen wrote in the family sitting room, “subject to all kinds of casual interruptions,” her nephew recalled. She was careful that her occupation should not be suspected by servants, or visitors, or any persons beyond her own family party. She wrote upon small sheets of paper which could easily be put away, or covered with a piece of blotting paper. There was, between the front door and the offices, a swing door which creaked when it was opened; but she objected to having this little inconvenience remedied, because it gave her notice when anyone was coming.
“Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton & doses of rhubarb.”
From Daily rituals by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #janeAusten @masoncurrey
THE MARTIAN from Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day by Ben Loory.
"The three of them sit down to dinner. Halfway through the soup course, a Martian enters the room. It takes the astronaut’s napkin and lays it across his lap. Then it turns around and walks out.
I thought you said you didn’t see any Martians, says the woman.
Not on the moon, says the astronaut, no."
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