It's a picturesque little village, that seems to have dodged the marring hands of time, ugly architecture and commercialisation. On a clear day, the sunlight kisses the climbing roses and the road is swathed with a golden haze. Half closing your eyes you can imagine away the telephone lines and angry red signs and you are walking to the village shop, basket under your arm the song you heard on the wireless dancing round your head wondering whether the village team will win the cricket tomorrow...?
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