We parked for Truro halfway up Chapel Hill this afternoon and walked into the city, a route I took many, many times as a youngster when we lived on the hill.
We passed a feather, caught in a hedge of Escallonia, spotted the name of our town, Redruth, on a short drain runway across the pavement and finally, the house we lived in, where there were flowers for sale with a piggy bank for the honesty payments.