The hoodie and horses

This morning, I had to work in Nailsworth, and walk down the small but steep Butcher Hill Lane, past the curving house on the right whose shape and roofline I have always liked.

This small road was part of the ancient highway to Bristol, which was superseded in the 1840s, when the Turnpike was opened. The Lane hardly ever gets used now, even by people, although it is still classed as a road.

At the location, I found that part of the basement of the building still as it was built, probably several hundred years ago, with the remains of a milking parlour with cobble-like stones. It was so evocative, with a modern dish-washer and washing-machine now in residence.

When I finished work at the bottom of the hill just around this bend, I tried a few views looking from the bottom up the hill, but the rain was falling and I hadn't quite seen the framing I wanted. So I climbed up the lane and looking back to find the view I originally had in mind.

Several people walked up towards me, then a figure passed me going down. Suddenly a figure on horseback turned the bend and swept up the Lane with great vigour, trailing another horse. I felt this is how it used to be, except probably for the hoodie-shrouded lad, who looked a bit scared as he backed away towards the stonewall.