In the Grove, Caroline on her last day with us, flies what is claimed to be the smallest kite in the world; it measures about three inches by two inches and has two tails; caught by the gusty wind, it soars up into the sunshine.
Giles, who owns the house, with a window, where a life sized bear ( recently featured here) looks down on to the Grove, greets me from the neighbouring window. "Can I be in your blog too?" he says.
Normal service is resumed. Guests have departed. Shoppers carry ordinary plastic bags, now that the conjoined feasts of Christmas and the Sales are over. The decorations in the High Street hang desolately in the damp air, and a discarded Christmas tree lies across the waste bin at the entrance to Chapel Place. A charming melancholy presides.
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