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And, all around, there is the New Forest. The forest is the whole point of the place. The village itself simply found itself a small clearing and settled in.
Stray New Forest ponies some days wander on to the main road and are accorded due reverence.
A stray cat, a proper bruiser, came to visit them and refused to leave. After a week or two of snarling and bullying, from both Steve and the cat, they each let down their guard. And now you’ll find Steve, reading his paper in an old armchair, Trouble curled up on his lap, purring in his sleep. Two old rascals, safe and sound.
But Steve has learned you must never resent other people for their happiness. Everyone is taking the best shot they’ve got, and some shots are just luckier than yours. Anytime you feel your unhappiness turning into bitterness, you have to check yourself. You can live with unhappiness, but bitterness will kill you.
He probably shouldn’t be wearing a denim jacket and a sweatshirt. But that’s what he always wears, and America will have to change before Steve does.
Steve loves airships. But maybe that’s for another time. Focus now.
“I know many people enjoy your books, and surely they can’t all be wrong?” “I might put that on my next front cover,” says Rosie.
“When in Rome,” says Henk. He looks at the flowers climbing across the entrance to the pub. “Ah, crocosmia, beautiful. You know they are South African originally?” “Okay, Henk can be on our team too,” says Steve.
