Westering Home

We went to pick a Christmas tree today. I was invited to wander between them and tie a tag on the one I'd like chopping and delivering, from the copse on the farm. It's a small holding. The woman was busy constructing wreaths from all kinds of greenery and some dodgy ribbon that looked more 'cemetery' than 'yule'. The dog was behaving like we were caught in an episode of 'Twin Peaks' so we didn't hang around. This caravan, with its proud boast of once having been North of the Border, delighted me.