The day was so beautiful that it took a while to drive from Robin's house to my parents' house in The Cotswold Hills.
It was St George's Day. As a lover of dragons I have never been a fan of St George. I drove a small detour to photograph the war memorial at Stanton. On the back, in dappled light, an inscription.
These men from what had been a small, close village died in France, Eygpt and Gallipoli. This is where pacifism becomes confused for me as I can only feel grateful that they died so that I can have the future that I have and yet I hate the folly of war. Sometimes, perhaps, there is no alternative.
In my father's garden the light shines through a beautiful red tulip.