Look through any window

A very quick visual post today as the result of an afternoon out with friends yesterday.  Our outing included, but was not limited to, some of my favourite things: sunshine, spotty pigs, peacocks (elegantly named Dave and Steve), gargoyles, olde stuffe, a maze, beehives and macaroni cheese.  All in the same place too, just five minutes' walk from my home, but where I've never before ventured beyond the gates.  I've just looked through the bars longingly, many times, like a child pressing her nose against the toy shop window. Sometimes, ironically, places of interest are so nearby that you simply don't take advantage of them. "Oh, but I can go there any time," you think, and as a result you don't.

Anyway, yesterday I did, and took quite a few pics, including some of the spotty pigs and Dave, or was it Steve?  I merely ate the macaroni cheese.  We saw bees chasing a gardener (they didn't like the vibrations of the lawnmower, apparently) and fed the carp in the moat.  Of all the many beautiful, ancient and quirky sights we enjoyed, though, there was another favourite thing - or perhaps theme -  that kept catching my eye, all within this one location. What is is it about old and often tatty doors and windows that I find so appealing?  Something mysterious perhaps - and the idea that they are portals, that so many people have passed through or peered through them, over decades - or centuries.   I'm glad that now includes me.

(Inside the high, creepy attic - which easily fitted the
criteria for this)