Sunlight streaking onto an ancient fireplace at The White Hart, Littleton On Severn provides today's inspiration and thought for the blog. I'm tired today as I was woken with a start at 3am by the gales which battered the Bristol Channel over the weekend. Thinking the fence panels had come down I lept out of bed and having sourced through the darkness there was no damage looked at the trees in the garden swaying dramatically as 35mph winds, gusting 60mph, screamed in from the sea. I get a lot of wind here as the house faces fields which in a distance of around 1 mile become the sea, a sea which itself reaches its fingers into the Atlantic; but having such force in the wind in springtime is very unusual. It really did feel like November out there at 3am. My broken sleep eventually gave way to slumber and a quiet morning before then heading off to see friends in the afternoon. On our return home in the car at 6pm we felt a little peckish. With strong winds still rocking the trees, clouds scudding briskly across the sky, interspersed with sunshine and showers, I remembered this ancient and cosy inn, The White Hart nearby. Probably 6 years since I last darkened its threshold and so it was with a joyous heart to see it had not changed and best of all open at 6.15pm on a Sunday. Marvellous. Sitting at our table hard by an inglenook fireplace all of a sudden the sun streaked in and lit the hearth. Just time for a quick photograph with my mobile and then it was gone, plunging the void back into darkness for the rest of our time there. A reminder that as with many things in life, the right place at the right time counts for a lot.
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