It's all crooketty-crannitty.
... as well as an impressive line in chubby-cheeked cherubs.
Back in the Gestalt Centre, where our excellent Creative Writing in the Therapeutic Encounter workshop was being run by Claire Williamson, I unbolted the gate at the end of the garden.
It opened onto a patch of rough ground ...
... and the Norman castle, with England beyond it.
Getting good shots meant scrambling up muddy slopes in my sandals, which, although they are sensible, was still a bit tricky.
A reminder that writing poetry always requires stout footwear, because you never know where it will take you.