I’m currently watching the 1995 version of A Little Princess. While I don’t think its as good as the 1939 version with Shirley Temple, it is a little more colorful and very PG. It got me thinking of the days when I had the luxury of hiding in a little corner of my room. Mom never really bothered or cared that I would spend hours reading. I think she figured that as long as I was quiet, I wasn’t getting into any trouble.
Anyway, the Little Princess always made me wish I was living in an attic. Not the kind with leaking roofs and mice, but a room at the top of the house, with a window overlooking the street that no one else but me would live in. My own little nook. The attics in my imagination would have octangular walls. I imagined it would be sort of like living in a castle with the high spooked ceilings. oh! The adventures that I will have!
There was a house like that in the Marine Parade area. On my recent trip home, I discovered that they had tore the house down for condos. What a waste.