Another Chance Encounter in the Market Square

He walked to the other end of the bench like a cowboy just off a horse. He looked like a hollowed out Richard Harris, wearing tailored jeans, a horizontally striped cotton t-shirt and a Miss Marple gardening hat. ‘May I sit here?’ ‘ Of course.’ He sat, nodding. Then, after a while, ‘What a quaint little town this is.’ ‘ Really? With all the Tudor and the Halls?’ ‘ Oh, granted. But I’ve just come…