last weekend on our way to Somerset, we stopped in the little village of Bitton which is where A.'s grandfather grew up until the age of nine. at this time, his family decided to pack up and sail (on a voluntary ship) to New Zealand. on the way they stopped in Cape Town to refuel (his grandfather could vividly recall what the Cape of Good Hope looked like in the late 1920s) and then again in Australia. after chatting to some pioneer friends in Sydney, his parents decided to stay...and the rest as they say is (family) history.
this is the village church in Bitton where he would have sat in the family pew, dressed in his Sunday best. it's a beautiful village and you can almost picture him running across the meadows and down the hill to school....the story that he often told A's mum and her siblings.