30 September 2026

Today's was a local walk, into the farm lands surrounding Burford.

The Windrush river flows right past the bottom of the high street. A tiny, narrow medieval stone bridge crosses the river and is the only entrance and exit to Burford from the north.

Only wide enough for one car at a time, it causes extreme traffic jams twice daily in the town, but is very scenic to walk across -

From the other side of the bridge, the steeple of St John's church rises above the gabled stone slate roofs -

And very quickly we could walk directly into farm land (thank you, Right to Roam) -

Bucolic is the word here, I think

We were carrying a large bag of carrots from the Coop in the village, as it was a return visit - for my benefit - to the pigs the others had met on their first day hike -

The pig experience did not disappoint.

Even though only Horace (as they'd decided to name him) appeared. Evidently his sister Hortensia was having a nap elsewhere.

Horace enthusiastically devoured a very large number of carrots. I wish I could post videos here of his excited grunts, but on my phone they will forever make me smile.

He was happy to be petted. We think he's a Gloucestershire Old Spot, and the age of him and his sister made us believe that the two of them are not destined at this point to be salami - a comforting thought.

James always gets the best angles. I love this picture below so much -

We popped inside this pretty wee church from the late 1100s -

and set off for home over walls and stiles -

This evening we walked down the road to the Bull, boutique rooms cum restaurants of Matthew Freud, PR mogul, great grandson of Sigmund.

Mainly curious to see the art from his private collection, we had drinks in front of a fire (below a print of Alberto Korda's photo of Che Guevara) and a wander around -