That's the Bristol Frome, obviously. We stayed close to home over half term with the infection rate rocketing. Not that the other Fromes aren't fairly local, but there you go. Or rather don't.
My first Frome walk was with the Northerner in the late days of October. We'd intended to walk around Eastville Lake but the road was closed, so we diverted to Snuff Mills instead. It was still very odd being there and being dogless but important to walk these places in Ted's honour, I think.
Lovely Snuff Mills, place of earliest childhood and encroaching old age, and right in the middle of the city.
My second Frome walk was with Son the Elder in early November, making the most of getting out before the second lockdown. (Which isn't going to be any different for me as I still have to dice with Covid-19 in my place of work, which is a school. But that's by the by.) Further towards town this time, and heading downstream instead of up. In fact, we started by walking down Cut Throat Lane, which is always atmospheric. Literally - there always seems to be a bit of bluish haze in it.