Yesterday afternoon my desk was bathed in cool autumnal sunlight and my eyes strayed from time to time to the golden trees standing idly in the office car park. But back home in the village, after a couple of Friday evening beers, I was greeted with fog.
Not thick fog, but that fascinating misty fog that provides the sinister backdrop to so many detective stories.
Unfortunately I couldn’t capture the atmosphere of gas lamps and narrow, cobbled streets, but I did manage to take this photo of the new village filling station.
