A Bygone Age

The location is inside the garden courtyard of an old stable block now used for staff accomodation. The old house is now an hotel.

These are relics of its more illustrius past.

The gates have been propped against this wall that I know of for 17 years and you can hear them asking the question, "Will we ever open again?" Beside them at the entrance to the yard are the old mounting steps.

In the silence I can still hear the slow plod of shod hooves on cobbles, orders being barked, the creaking of leather as people mount their steeds and the refined accents of those about to 'ride out'.