Clun Mill hostel, Shropshire |
As I came to the end of my set, playing
by a stand of golden rod covered with bees and hover flies, a pair of red kites
flew over. Inspired me to take to the hills and scale the iron-age hill fort
after my set.
The view from the summit confirms
what I always suspected: this is one of England’s least appreciated, most beautiful
counties. (Shame I got lost on the way back and had a 2.5 mile walk along the
road with mad car drivers apparently unprepared to share the highway with a
pedestrian).
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