The smallest room in the building is at the top of the back stairs, tucked under the eaves. It has space for six people if they're friendly and four if they're not.
Strange things happen there. The string quartets rehearse there because the sound is dry and honest. The poets meet there because nobody can hide. The trustees meet there because there's nowhere to spread out and so the meetings are short.
Of all the rooms in the building, it's the one I'd save first.
Written by Ros Elliott More notes
