Call me Fishpail. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having tired of the comforts of domesticity, and with nothing particular to bind me to my human home, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace. (The Poetics of Space – Gaston Bachelard)
The Chilterns in late September. Summer should be over but won’t let go. Autumn permits this unscheduled day of aestival warmth, but slowly drums its cool brown fingers.