The Fleece, Bretforton...

Just been watching a kite. It didn’t soar on stiff wings, like a buzzard; in a strong, buffetting wind it was constantly making tiny adjustments to wings and forked tail. The red kite was re-introduced, a few years ago, at many sites around the country (including familiar territory: Harewood House, near Leeds), and I’m amazed how well they have adapted to such varied terrain, not just the mountains of Wales. This suggests that their numbers declined through being hunted to near extinction, rather than any shortage of suitable habitats or sources of food…

Called in at one at my favourite pubs today: the Fleece Inn in the village of Bretforton. It’s got a special atmosphere, helped along by having an open fire in every room: very welcome on a wet day in December. I got permission to take some pix. A guy was sitting by the fire on one of the high-backed settles. He looked great, with his pint, like this was where he belonged. I asked if I could do some pix. “No”, he said, “I’m not supposed to be here”. Shame. But I got chatting to this elderly man, who had come, with family, to have a birthday lunch. I did a pic for them - in a group - and this one for me…