there had been the matter of my unfortunate remark. I thus gave no indication of

having had a disturbed night when I thanked the landlord and took my leave to

explore the market town of Taunton.

 

Perhaps I might have done better to have lodged here in this establishment where

I now sit enjoying a pleasant mid-morning cup of tea. For indeed, the notice

outside advertises not only 'teas, snacks and cakes', but also 'clean, quiet,

comfortable rooms'. It is situated on the high street of Taunton, very close to

the market square, a somewhat sunken building, its exterior characterized by

heavy dark timber beams. I am at present sitting in its spacious tea-room,

oak-panelled, with enough tables to accommodate, I would guess, two dozen people

without a feeling of crowding. Two cheery young girls serve from behind a

counter displaying a good selection of cakes and pastries. All in all, this is

an excellent place to partake of morning tea, but surprisingly few of the

inhabitants of Taunton seem to wish to avail themselves of it. At present, my

only companions are two elderly ladies, sitting abreast one another at a table

along the opposite wall, and a man - perhaps a retired farmer - at a table

beside one of the large bay windows. I am unable to discern him clearly because

the bright morning sunlight has for the moment reduced him to a silhouette. But

I can see him studying his newspaper, breaking off regularly to look up at the

passers-by on the pavement outside. From the way he does this, I had thought at

first that he was waiting for a companion, but it would seem he wishes merely to

greet acquaintances as they pass by.

 

I am myself ensconced almost at the back wall, but even across the distance of