Stones have a long memory. Our last meeting unexpected, history links us as we walk the quiet predawn streets of London. We are transported. Joyful. Together we speak of stones.
Rainy Day Women drifting over the Brooklyn Bridge. Talking tourism. Linguistic blagging. A Full English. Memorials. Buildings. Bridges. Death dates. A faint hum of suicide.
Twelve types of British stone. If these stones could talk: Keep calm and carry on.
A Wander is not a Slog 