The map of The Grove, like The Grove itself, was covered with snow during the recent wintry conditions. It is always good to know where you are.
As I pass a row of cottages, which give directly on to the pavement, a front door opens, a hand holding a rug reaches out and shakes the rug. A little cloud of dust rises. The rug quivers and is gone. The door closes, and leaves behind a sense of mystery, a fairy story unwritten.
For a long time the word verification letter, which I was encountering were disappointing, clumsy without any hidden sense or curious harmony that I could discern. Then, suddenly, in the last hour or so WV is back to form. Like some sort of oracle it comes up in quick succession with "weast", "mecism" and "knonst".