The Royal Tournament – Chapter 1
It was always raining in the land of Gud. It never stopped, so umbrellas were essential. One boy who didn’t have an umbrella was Splidge. He was dripping wet and soaked to the skin, and surprised the City hadn’t flooded long ago.
Seeking shelter, the boy ducked under an arch of the venerable Market Hall. The ancient timber-framed building sat on tall stone pillars in the City centre and made a perfect respite from the constant drizzle. As puddles formed around his shoes, Splidge shook the water from his bedraggled jacket and dried his sandy-coloured hair with a handkerchief.
Splidge the Cragflinger – The Royal Tournament – Prologue
The door creaked open and the Clockmaker looked up. A tall thin man dressed in black stood in the doorway, a hood hiding his face. The cold February chill blew into the room. The old hunched Clockmaker hated interruptions when he was working. It was early and he was not expecting any visitors.
Some of our houses in the UK are very old and we are lucky to have such a long history. I popped out to the West Hoathly Priest House to discover how life is like in 600 year old timber-framed building in East Sussex:
If you like walking, why not get out with the ramblers? The Rambling association is nationwide. I popped out one evening with the Brighton and Hove Ramblers to find out what it is all about:
Have a listen: