Most Everything Happens for Reasons

How to be a Person -- The Newsletter for June 12th, 2024

Ham House May 27th 2024

When you enter Ham House the first thing you see are his eyebrows. The docent beckoned me into the 17th century pile through the large wooden door. The house is on the banks of the Thames in Richmond, the borough in south west London. Then you see the wide-plank floor as you shake yourself off after running across the pea-gravel from the ticket caravan to the front door. The rain is gathering momentum now, fat drops smacking against the mottled plate glass.

Ham House 2024. When the rain had stopped.

The second docent is Gail. William Murray was given Ham House for being an excellent yes-man to Charles I, she said. By her accent she sounds American. Disappointing. Paintings of William and his family adorn the room, one of many closets. Apparently closets were all the rage back then. And the inner-most were reserved for the closest friends and family. Coming out of the closet I see a mirror. It’s silver paint has deteriorated to give its reflections a vague and pixelated quality. Some human Moomins from a land where guttural sounds are considered words crowds in behind me so I move on.

I’m looking for ghosts. And so far all there are, are tourists.

I check the window sills looking for graffiti. Nary a Sally wuz here. I look along door jams for notches marking the heights of growing children. Nothing. I go outside and look for old hearts carved in older trees. I find the mention of other body parts instead.