An old english town can hold many treasures for the senses hidden among the footpaths and back lanes around the old market. I regularly stop at this point while wandering the urban environment. Towering above the pavement are the second point gothic arches of the towns church. A palisade of black painted railings march along the boundary and the calls of ravens can be heard from the stone spire thrusting high above.
Centuries of weather have taken their toll upon the stonework and many of the decorative figures standing within the alcoves are worn beyond recognition. However the efforts of the old craftsmen who built this place have become somewhat tarnished from my perspective. The lead hopper above the rain pipe bears a distortion where perhaps it failed to fully hold the weight of someone climbing onto the lower roof. The railings are often a lure of false security for cyclists to the town. Bikes are often chained to them, however some are stolen. The local thieves have realised this place is a blind spot to the towns cctv and a swift lop from bolt cutters can soon release cycles from their moorings and they are spirited away down the old lanes to be cashed in for scrap or sold on as second hand.
As time has passed it seems this place has gone from the realm of the craftsman to the realm of the thief. It seems wherever there is a chance of finery, corruption is never far away.
(I thought I would show one of my ink paintings rather than my usual sketch style for this post - I hope it goes some way to capture the scene)