The place was charming, flowery, and idyllic. Yet I was in the city centre of a very small town, or was it a big village? I wasn’t sure how to determine this location.
I passed a magnificent 18th-century metal bridge overhanging the narrow Severn River, according to the plaque screwed to the low wall along the water. I was obviously in the main street, High Street, paved with grey and regular stones. Large, rough, bumpy limestone slabs covered the sidewalk, and the broadly leafy boxwood pots scattered here and there gave the illusion that the cold wasn’t all that persistent. However, the river was bordered by coppices of all kinds, the branches of which, with winter, seemed very gaunt.
This little town wasn’t lacking in charm. Yet I had no idea of exactly where I was, or even how I had e
