A notice says that if the horses become too friendly one can wave ones hands and they will move away. But the horses keep on grazing as I walk past.
There are a group of laughing children and adults on the opposite bank. They are laughing because a large fish, they caught, bit one man’s finger and escaped with a plop.
The church tower floats above the darker shapes of the almshouses and churchyard. Looking back into the sunset, from the bridge, the church tower is ink-black. Only the water ghosts the sky. I rest for a time, deep in reflection, before moving on past the Old Gaol and the Broad Face.