On a cold, damp, colourful Autumn day , I arrived at the crossroads where gasps of a blustery gale were clashing into a vortex, swirling everything trapped within an invisible theatre, I sat within my vehicle frozen in amazement, stopping to glance as if in a trance transfixing my glaze, most would not have seen, instead noticing the wonderful building of All Saints well presented and quaintly built with brown and white ornate stone or the little elderly couple shuffling along, wrapped up with elegance and scarves holding hands, drenched in historical affection, not the mere sight of leaves creating a scene of pure beauty, dancing colourfully, setting the scene of the most glamorous ballet to bestow an audience, a large black Crow sitting comfortably on the pleasant wall, picking at a chip acquired from the foyer, so called the road where many quaint yet tasty food items can be bought at a reasonable price of mere diligence and patience, then the scene erupted into a finale’, swept away from existence by a trail of moving vehicles in transition to all of the most amazing places that anyone could imagine, it was then’, I could hear the trumpets and brass section wakening me from my trance at the end of the dance, horns of plenty from behind reminding me the show had finished and it was my time to depart the Belvedere auditorium.
