The house on the hill

Every time I walk past this house on a lunchtime walk I wish I could buy it.

At the foot of the hill today I met a woman who seemed to be looking for something, so I asked her what it was. She was wearing wellies, a bandanna and some old clothes and her face lit up with a smile.

"I am looking for something" she said "and I just found it". She took me down a flight of stone steps concealed amongst some trees to where there was clear, cold water bubbling up through a rocky basin. We squatted down together and I dipped my hand in; it was chilled and fresh on the fingertips and drained off into the river Mole.

"It's a little know wellspring. It's been here for hundreds of years. People still come down here with bottles and take it home to drink" she said, her face dappled with light that was dancing through the trees. There was something unearthly in her light and playful voice.

Suddenly I worried that I was in the presence of a water spirit and that I would be enchanted and end up part of the landscape. I thanked her and retreated back to the foot of the hill, and I swear I heard tinkling laughter behind me.

True story that. I might take a bottle into work myself tomorrow...