One of my favourite places to sit is on the far side of the stub light in the photo, with my back resting against the brick plinth.
I have the edge of the tiled swimming pool slab for my seat and a skirt of rough concrete to rest my feet on.
I’m not hidden, exactly, but nor am I obvious.
A screen of young walnut trees shields me on the left, and a rose-covered balustrade on the right.
Straight ahead of me the green valley plunges and then lifts, past patchwork fields and dark forest, to a mountain ridge.
Swallows swoop in the gulf and buzzards soar over it. Sometimes the sound of church bells or drums floats up from a hidden source.