The sitting room is at the other end of the corridor from my room, and actually takes up three rooms joined together with the walls knocked out.
"It was done before my dad took occupancy of the house, by who is anyone's guess", says Carl. The room is reasonably clean with a slight odour of dust and neglect. Carl has already opened all the dormer windows. There is a made single bed in one corner, near the far window. it is covered, like other beds in this house,in a white cotton counterpane. There is a loose and irregular semi circle of comfy chairs in the middle, and a couple of occasional tables. The pale yellow walls are all bare and completely unadorned, casting a rather austere and forlorn aspect on the place. There are no lamps, just three separate light bulbs on the ceiling. We have already sat down, five of us, since Jason and Lazarus have opted to join us, Carl, Francois and I. Carl produces yet another fresh club size bag of President Choice Decadent semi sweet chocolate chips, and with theatrical flourish cuts it open with the scissors he has in his right hand.
"Chocolate chips?" says Jason.
"This is the sacrament for our reading ritual", says Francois, smiling.
Kenny's diary is on my knee, and I open the book to the final pages...
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