Today I explored outward from Salisbury; only a mile or so, on a dulled afternoon. Most of the houses are bog-suburb-council-house-bungalow, with a few oldies still wedged in among.
Eking out brick with flint is a real Wiltshire ploy; pity about the tactless street furniture.
The basic cottage underneath is probably old, but the excessive grooming makes it look like something from a film lot – as if it is thatched with plastic rather than reed or straw.
The church also shows a traditional mixture of materials – fairly recent by church standards, but may be sitting on older foundations. I gave a black mark because it was locked at 2.30 pm – but maybe the local vandals are chronic.
Then this rather forbidding building. I would be hard put to say why it would look completely alien in my own home territory – something to do with the colour of the brick, and perhaps the roof line. Judging by the numerous revisions, this one has been around for a while.
This peach of the vernacular shows classic flint chequerwork in its lower portion; not sure if the dressed stones are very dirty chalk or, as I suspect, greensand (of sentimental memory).
How do you know you have knitted half a ball of wool when you have no accurate scales? Like this …