I stayed at Charles Causley’s house in early August, after a friend recommended it as a place where he thought I would enjoy a DIY writing retreat. As soon as I opened the front door, I could see and feel that I was somewhere completely distinctive, somewhere I would remember. With limited experience of Charles Causley’s poetry and the work of the Trust, it would be all too easy to feel a heaviness, a seriousness in response to the shaded living room, its subdued colours and dark furniture. Or to feel an awkwardness of being in somebody’s family home who has passed away, and here I am, gawky, too tall, surrounded by their possessions. The wind-up bell alarm clock by the bed, the rotary dial telephone in the corner, and a little collection of shells. Generations of family history are absorbed into every cared-for piece of furniture, a tender time capsule. But that didn’t happen. I didn’t tiptoe around, feeling over-cautious and overly respectful in that rarefied museum visitor way. I felt a lightness, a light-heartedness, a delight in that I was simply writing. And more than that, a lifting of any pressure to get as much done as possible in the time and a sense that I didn’t have to take the act of writing seriously at all, even if the subject itself is serious, as if I’m typing in one room, and Charles is playing the piano in the next.

– Lizzie Sykes
Lizzie Sykes is a Senior Lecturer working with students on BA Film and MA Directing Film and Television. Lizzie is a screen artist, researcher and participatory filmmaker.