The dog and I wandered through the allotment gardens in Aldbury yesterday, following the now pristinely laid out footpaths, listening to the birds in the hedgerows, watching the children on the swings. There are still runner beans and raspberries on their canes, but cabbages and pumpkins too. The village is so much smaller than I remember it as a child but even more charming.
Here's a picture of the village's red phone box that I have taken for posterity. The Government, in its infinite wisdom is phasing them out so I don't know how long this one will last.
And here is a picture of the churchyard, taken from underneath an ancient yew tree. It's interesting walking through a graveyard with a dog because one tries very hard to be sombre, thoughtful and respectful, while all the while wondering whether the dog might pee on someone's grave. I tried to imagine it as a comedy scene from the Vicar of Dibley, and hoped that if it did happen that God, in all his Anglican might, would find it amusing too. It's a great incentive for not loitering. I knew my father would think it funny, so that was enough.