Last night's storms had not stripped colour from the autumnal trees. Our tyres were noisy through mud and water as we drove past the common where a huge bonfire had been lit the night before. (A fitting tribute to the end of one season and the start of the new).
Broughton Gifford is beautiful. Honey-coloured stone houses, some cottages, other more grand with fine leaded windows and pillared driveways headed by high wrought iron gates.
Off the main route, past a water meadow populated by geese, and across past the electrical sub station, there is a farm with units let to small business. Our destination.
A lonely, if not ugly brick buiding, two holes where doors once hung is incongrous in the field. Standing out as it does it made us woinder if it was once a camping field and this remnant was the toilet block. A strange sight under the power lines after driving through such a pretty place.
The final painting, oil on board. 30 X 30 cms.
