Time travel

We had tea this afternoon in a Quaker Meeting House built by its own tiny hamlet community three hundred and fourteen years ago. Pretty much unchanged, and the distraction of coffee and an enormous slice of chocolate cake notwithstanding, it’s the kind of place where one is quickly lost in daydreaming reverie. Who were these people? What did they look like, sound like, work at? What did they wear and how did they conduct themselves? And not for the first time in this place I wished for the transport convenience of Dr Who’s Tardis to rocket me there and back between this afternoon and July of 1702. In the real world we heard wind in our wheels again as we cycled back up the hill and home. But I shall dream on …