What Lies Beneath…
What appears to be the entrance into another pantry from the kitchen, in actuality opens to reveal a narrow staircase, winding down into the cellars beneath the hold.
The main cellar is almost welcoming, with racks, bushels and baskets containing the foodstuffs needed to keep a bustling hold fed. Shelves along each wall hold various sundries for the functioning of the bed and breakfast, from clean bar cloths to wine buckets, cleaning supplies and corkscrews.
Linen closets hold extra clean sheets and quilts for the beds, and there is even a chest freezer for additional frozen foodstuffs- one never knows when a redcap corby might stop by and that side of beef will come in very handy.
In one corner an absurd contraption, a squat appliance overrun with a mass of pipes and valves. It is large and heavy, roughly square shape and gaping round glass door that swings invitingly open as the main body rumbles and groans. It alternates between spitting gouts of steam and burbles of soap bubbles at irregular intervals. A steam warped wooden sign on the wall provides instructions for use, including the stern warning to include a tithe of one extra sock per load, ere the beastly contraption decide to sup on your finest voile instead.
As one continues back through the rows of shelves and haphazardly stacked boxes and pallets, the air grows cooler, dank and musty. Shadows lurk down here in every cobwebbed corner, and faint rustles and squeaks indicate vermin nesting behind the boxes of beer and crated wine bottles.
The shelves remain, but the goods become more sporadic, dusty, mildewed and pungent, laced with cobwebs, and yet, occasionally replenished to ‘age to perfection’.
The concrete floor is uneven, cracked and crumbling, more like cobbles slick from condensation laid down by the fog that trails in sinuous tendrils on little cat feet. Continue on, and find out how deep the cellars delve beneath the hold.
Tip for the wise- do not follow a sluagh who promises a cask of fine amontillado.