Following on from yesterday I decided to walk back in to town and see what the streets were like on a Sunday. The sun was out for a while and the church bells of St Marys were ringing out….it felt like a real Sunday morning. But the streets were quiet, not a soul to be seen except for the odd church goer or the pigeons clearing up the crumbs from yesterdays snacks. I walked back down the main Castle Street now deserted, no market stalls, no market traders shouting out their wares…..eerily quiet. So I walked through the church grounds and back towards the council offices soon to be made redundant…..the commemorative benches empty and trees planted in honour of some old long since forgotten event….the bandstand silent, just one guy sat on a bench, his head in his hands….why I wondered, had something happened, some bad news received….or just a long night? I walked round to the War memorial with its manicured lawns and freshly painted benches, waiting for someone to come and sit in quiet contemplation….but no one came…..only a blackbird sat aloft the memorial statue…I touched the brass plaques with row after row of names…..of those who had died in the Wars….who were they? What would their lives have been had they not died in the line of duty, the saddest thing was that there were 2 family names, each listing 4 or 5 members, simply listed as civilians, innocents. Its amazing what your home town gives up to you in the quiet of a Sunday morning.