Waterlog Reswum

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“I arrived in the mid–morning on an enchanting south–facing grassy hillside, swooping down to the riverside through a sheltered little water meadow almost within sight of the old castle at Farleigh…There wasn’t a soul about; everyone was at work, but I had been told to help myself to a swim anyway.” The path stops dead about a mile out of Trowbridge. From here on, it’s a case of nestling as close as… Read More