As I’ve mentioned before, I lived in London for about two years while getting a degree. During this time, I was lucky enough to rent a room from one of the greatest families in the United Kingdom, who dubbed me their “Rental Daughter”. I went from being an only child to having a Rental Brother and Sister who not only thought I was cool and funny (mostly because of my accent), but who loved reading and telling stories, to boot.
That September, we heard that Roald Dahl‘s family were opening his home, Gipsy House in Great Missenden, Buckinghamshire, in honor of his birthday, my Rental Family decided to pay a visit–and asked me to come, too. The day was a pure adventure from start to finish, starting with my first ever visit to a British rest stop, and concluding with a walk through the gardens of the writer who helped shaped by childhood imagination.
One of the best parts of the day was seeing parents and children walking together, reminiscing together about reading Roald Dahl’s books, how scared they were by the Witches, how exciting they were about finding a Golden Ticket, or how much they wanted to meet a real BFG of their very own. My Rental Sister and I talked about how much we both loved Matilda, while sneaking ripe blackberries off the bushes that lined the garden when no one was looking. For each person walking around Gipsy House that day, the world of each of Dahl’s stories was very real, and very present, and that allowed adults and children alike find a magical common ground where they could walk together.
What I remember really clearly was that we spent the entire drive back to London telling stories. Each of my Rental Siblings and I took turns adding to some thoroughly outlandish story about Constantine, the Blue Sorcerer who defeated the Red Lady with a petal found in the flower at the World’s End, and a former Circus Strongman who was covered in tattoos (among other similarly noteworthy characters). Even the Rental Parents got into it, unwilling to let a day of stories and imaginings go too quickly.
Today, a dear friend sent along this editorial, published in The Daily Mail, by Roald Dahl’s daughter, Lucy, describing her childhood with her father in the world that he created. It’s a lovely piece, not only because it confirmed all the wonderful, charming, and ever-surprising stories I had heard about Dahl, but because it reminded me how infectious his sense of wonder, joy, and imagination were, not only to Lucy, but to all of us who were lucky enough to spend some time at Gipsy House. In describing her home, Lucy writes, “I am from a land of magic and witches, giants and Minpins, woods and fields, four-leaf clovers and dandelion wishes – I am from the imagination of my father, Roald Dahl.”
Not only was this childhood one full of wild adventures and magic, but a place where stories were constantly being created, crafted, and told. “The BFG had not yet been written, nor had Matilda or The Witches,” Lucy recalls, “Dad was developing his characters with each bedtime story; watching our reactions, carefully noticing what made us laugh or sit up or even sometimes yawn.” I can’t describe how much happiness it brought to read through these reminiscences and realize that stories really did grow at Gispy House alongside the flowers.
So I thought that I would, in turn, pass this article on to you to enjoy, along with the hope that your day is full of dreams and stories, as well. You can read Lucy’s full article here–enjoy!
