Soft Afternoon.

When I lived in Ireland, weather like this was called soft. Not hurling rain, not dry, just soft.

On my way back from Stamford, where it had been rainy, dark and not soft, (so no blip opportunities) I saw this old building. I am told it is not a mill, so I dare not say it is. I have no idea what it is, anyone know?
I have seen it with dramatic sunsets and dawns, but rather liked it's appearance just now as it sat in the later afternoon mist, framed by our gentle Rutland hills.

I have since been shown by the academic Amro, that it is indeed an old Windmill (see below)