It was only after I had taken this photograph that I was reminded of Rupert Brooke’s poem, The Old Vicarage, Granchester…. one of those instances of English literature where the last lines are by far the most famous:
‘… oh! yet / Stands the Church clock at ten to three? / And is there honey still for tea?’
Appropriately enough, I suppose, for the Parsonage. A bunch of sweet peas from the garden, on the kitchen table. Note the clock in the background.
Ten minutes ago, as dusk softly slips into night, I photographed the pots of lilies in the garden. The scent is thick, extraordinary. The air is heavy with the sound of crickets. You could almost be in Italy.
