Oldest friend and his good lady live in a part of rural England that is perhaps the epitome of all that is considered to be the most English of Englishness.
They did not always do so of course. When we were growing up we all lived in a small town by the river Thames in Surrey that the locals to this day (or at least until not that long ago) insist on calling (without irony) ‘the village’.
We have each now disappeared in our own directions – us to western Canada – they to the borderlands of Worcestershire and Herefordshire. Naturally I made the pilgrimage to the heart of the country to get a look at our friends’ new home (the which I had previously only glimpsed briefly in estate agents particulars online) and to re-connect with them. A thoroughly lovely couple of days in the countryside ensued.
These images give a general impression of the area – and if you can hear strains of Elgar playing somewhere in your subconscious as you view them I would not be in the least surprised.
Today’s image
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