I found myself, about half an hour later pulling up in the roadside car park of Ashton Windmill. It may seem like a little piece of transplanted Dutchness in the Somerset countryside, but Ashton Windmill is the real thing. Until fairly recently it was a working windmill, grinding corn to make flour for the community it served. What is more remarkable to me is that it had being doing that since it was built in the 1750s. Ashton Windmill is old. It was standing and grinding corn well before Cook sailed off to observe the transit of Venus and then carry on with his secret mission which resulted in claiming the new lands of New Zealand and Australia for the crown - which was probably totally indifferent about the whole thing. It was there before Napoleon and the French Republic, there before Jane Austen. It did an awful lot of grinding over that time, and probably most of it under skies that were just as dismal as these.
Just so that you know, and by way of an apology for what may appear to be a complete lack of attention on my part - which is far from the case - I'm going away for a few days tomorrow to North(ish) Wales. I'm going to visit my aunt who lives in Welshpool, but I'm also hoping to go across to the Welsh coast and grab some photo opportunities. So, I'll be out of Internet range for a while. See you all when I get back, hopefully with pictures of castles and unusual places.