A bench with a view
Love to look at benches. Old park benches in memory of those held dear are joyful. Knackered and split. Painted and jolly. Stuck out on their own commanding a mountainous view or nestled around some greenery and herbs. Smothered in faded floral cushions. Lutyens or bog standard. It almost doesn’t matter.
I will take mine old and silvered over looking this lovely little pond.
(but next week I might change my mind).