The Land After Time

All is change, and nothing remains static. Not time nor space, not mind nor face. 

I mean, look how small Snickers are these days.

But it maybe isn't a bad thing. On the borders of Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire this week, we took a wander along what used to be quite the Roman highway, connecting two areas of high populace and no doubt ringing to the sound of feet, hooves and cartwheels. Now it looks like this:

Not bad really. Funny to think the M5 might end up like this one day.

We crossed an ancient clapper bridge (human ancient, not really ancient, as it's only medieval) where time has simply made it beautiful:

Dipped our feet in the nerve-sparkling chill of the pellucid river where we could see, lying on the riverbed, cast off stones used by Roman engineers when constructing the nearby road. We're probably not the first to have done this.

Lunch under an ash tree in a natural amphitheatre, watching kestrels and red kites eyeing up my peri-peri chicken salad was an absolute treat. For me, maybe not the birds. Unless they're into human-watching:

If this is the future, I'm all for it.