These are just fleeting thoughts from the heartland of the UK's colonial dustbin somewhere beyond the wall of sleep. Odd bits of music and so-called worldly wisdom may creep in from time to time. Don't expect too much and you won't feel let down. As ever AI and old age are to blame. I'll just leave it there ...
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
As I walked out...
... not far from the Fife Coastal path near to Torryburn. The early afternoon sunlight plays on the trees and the stones in the local, long abandoned churchyard. The gravestones tell there own sad stories of short lives, infant deaths and families cut back by regular early deaths over quite short periods of time. Of course the people represented and (almost) remembered here are those that were well enough off to afford plots of burial land and the now smooth and weathered gravestones that might live on after, maybe for hundreds of years. The rest died poor, anonymous and forgotten.
Here's Windmill Barn Venue, a place I hardy knew existed until today and with the normally tightly closed gate wide open. It appears to be a fine (expensive?) looking wedding and meeting venue just a few fields away from our own little cabbage patch.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment