On the trot

It's always a bit of a culture shock to exchange the green, green grass of home for the hard pavements of the big(ish) city, and vice versa. 

I'm back in Wales after a packed couple of days catching up with old friends and familiar places. I had a  warm welcome home from my younger son who'd been cat-sitting: chicken soup and pumpkin pie in front of the fire with all felines present and correct, indeed  already lounging in every available seat.

Here's a sample of one of Oxford's earliest hard pavements, a 16th century trottoir made from sheeps' knucklebones: non-slip, self-draining and very cheap to make (if you like mutton).

I've been a slacker with comments this week but hope to catch up shortly. Thank you for yours.