Mark is sound collecting: banging a rock on disused metal pipes, Ezra possibly thinking, why can't I have a normal childhood, or actually, he was probably thinking: where are we going to eat at lunchtime, and what puddings will there be.
We then found a new route through an even darker, grimier tunnel and arrived at the foot of 'the green planky house'. I had to resist, as always, the urge to knock on their door and ask if I can look around inside. A Character in my book lives in this house, I would love to see if my imaginings are in anyway accurate.
Coffee and croissants followed before packing up and leaving the hotel. We shall return: Perhaps in winter when only one cafe is open and the railings sing in the wind.