I went for a walk down this intriguing hilly street, enjoying the gentle autumn sun.
When I came to this old house where someone had been up on a ladder fixing the roof.
He'd painted all the old lace ironwork silver, and was cleaning the red paint off the corrugated iron roof.
He must have just gone in for lunch. The whole street was quiet, no one around as I took these photos.
I fantasised about living there and lighting a fire in the fireplace under that ornate brick chimney as the nights got cool.
Then I crossed the little walkway across the bluestone gutter made for winter rains that haven't fallen the last few years.
All the gutters in this town are are full of dry leaves.
Across the road was an even older, more magical house of bluestone and brick, and I wanted to live in that one too for a while.
I'd like to have a study on the second floor looking out over the town and the hills beyond.