The evening before last, I took Bruce for his evening walk and then ran inside for my camera and walked again. The light was beautiful; the village as quiet as it would be before dark.
Today Rob and I are off to North Wales to visit old friends. More news will follow! :)
The Old House on Bear Hill. Legend has it that Shakespeare wrote part of his play, The Tempest, here.
The post office, at the bottom of the hill, on the right, by the telephone booth, where I would spend my precious pocket money entirely on the books that used to be sold there; childhood classics such as Black Beauty; Little Women (and all the subsequent Alcott books that I could lay my hands on;) Great Expectations; Jane Eyre--and on an on. I had a whole library of these thin, red bound hard cover books. I haven't stopped collecting books since. :)