This village dates from the Neolithic era (that's like cavemen time). Archeological evidence of Neolithic man has been found here. However, the village as it stands today dates mostly from the 17th century. It is a stunning place. The river Windrush runs genteelly through the village. On either side of the river, there are houses made of Cotswolds stone, festooned with flowering plants of every colour. Mysterious doorways to somewhere appear from behind the greenery, and then they hide themselves away like secrets that must be kept. Benches under the trees whisper of courtly lovers and the shy crushes of yesteryear. Whatever the sun's rays touched, colours blushed pleasurably into brilliance.
It was odd to see the sun preen the colours of the world so enthusiastically, but not feel its heat. The Singapore sun burns white hot on the skin. Not this sun. It was pleasantly warm, like oozing chocolate on the end of a spoon, and when the breeze danced past, warm met cold, leaving a tingle on the skin.
Colours were simply more vivid bathed in the golden glow of the sun.
Little benches that whisper love.
Mysterious doors that disappear.
Cottages festooned with flowering plants.