He is back – on the hill, calling for shy ladies in brown, outdoing the curlew. But then:
Lightening and rain
The cracks in the earth close up
The curlew is mute
He was here when we got home.
Kent was beautiful, full of pear and apple blossom:
We rented a cottage on the estate of a country mansion:
It was the home of the Lords Harris. The first of the line (wounded at Bunker Hill in the American war of independance) made his name in the employ of the British India company when he defeated Tipu Sultan one hot afternoon in 1798 when Tipu thought none would attack him in such heat.
We had a gatehouse:
It was on the edge of a wood. The dawn chorus was superb as I sat in the sun with coffee.
Faversham, a quaint old town, is just down the road:
Beryl bought some nail buffers. I never use the things.
One day we went to see where Thomas Beckett was murdered:
Somewhere at the far end.
Nearby is a sanctuary where endangered primates are bred for release into the wild.
The final weekend was at the Guild of Enamellers conference at Canterbury.
I made these dragonflies – quite fiddly for my thick thumbs.
My exhibit ‘Tea Garden’ (see gallery) did not win ‘best in show’ – but I signed and sold
some copies of my novel ‘Tom Fleck’ to the members and that kept me cheerful.