You have to be a tower of strength to open your home to the public

TWELVE people were finishing their introductory cups of coffee yesterday afternoon, when I stood up to address them. I got everyone’s attention, except the baby’s. It was affixed to its mother’s chest. The baby uttered so deep a bored sigh that it expelled its soother and went into a brief, but impassioned bereavement.
“The Martello towers of Britain and Ireland,” I began, “were arguably the most costly mistake ever made by the British government. Seventy eight of them were built around the south and east coasts of Britain and Ireland, all within a five-year period, to defend against the possibility of maritime invasion by Napoleon. In the event, Napoleon never came, because he was a bit preoccupied in Russia. This particular tower was completed in 1806, making it two hundred and ten years old.” This tower is also my home.