Early mornings in front of Mildrith, as I sweep out the ashes and load the hearth with bread, I feel the presence of St. Francis, the saint statue resting on the wall of the oven shelter.
It’s little more than a block of concrete cast into the likeness of St.… Continue reading
Six years ago, on a tour around the Cotswolds, Jennifer and I walked into a Cheltenham pub. It was late afternoon. The day had been dark and rainy, and this place was a cheerful antidote. We sat down at a table near a roaring fire in a brick fireplace and looked forward to warming up and having something to eat.… Continue reading