IN CIRENCESTER

We're back in Cirencester, this time for the celebration of my sister's life.  Flora lived for, I'd guess, at least the last twenty years of her life, and we would visit her here every time we returned to England. Here's the park she loved--and which we often visited with her--behind the church of St. John the Baptist:

I always admired this magnificent old copper beach...

Here are some lovely wild roses, near the big fishing pond...

And here's the view looking back across the park, toward the church...

... where there are many Clothiers buried...

The latter, by the way, with a wonderful Baroque poem, which I hope you might be able to read.  It's full of literary conceit and paradox.  RIP Hodgkinson Paine Clothier!

Later, but still quite early because we badly needed to get to bed in decent time, we had a pub dinner at The Bear...