Summer

I am sitting in my parents' house, two miles south of the Hogsback, eating cheese straws from the village bakery. On the other side of the ridge, to the east and the south, the North Downs roll away. Everything is green, yet groundwater levels are so low that the water comes out of the tap white with chalk dust (they're talking about building a pipe from the River Severn to the Thames Valley to move water here, or shipping it down from Scotland in tankers).

But there are hills here, real hills rather than dreary eastern fens. I don't have to go back east until tomorrow afternoon.

There will be much good fic this weekend (from other people - I make no claims for my own).

I have plentiful tea supplies.

Life is good. :)

Pilgrimage (2/2)

Title: Pilgrimage (cont.)
Author: rosemaryandrue
Words: 15, 518
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and I can't keep them.
Summary: He exposed his book to the rain long enough to discover that he had, unknowingly, passed out of Kent and into Surrey.

( There would be no small betrayals for Sirius Black. It must be all or nothing. )

Pilgrimage (1/2)

Title: Pilgrimage
Author: rosemaryandrue
Rating: PG-13
Words: 15,158
Disclaimer: i) As usual, anything you recognise from the books is not mine ii) All the places mentioned are real and can be found on a map, but the inhabitants are made up.
Prompt: For the shacking_up Minimalist Challenge. The Downs, they go up for imochan
Summary: It would be very quiet, up in the snow-shrouded hills.
expositionary and mizzmarvel, thank you.

( In December 1981, on the morning after the full moon, the third Sunday in Advent, Remus found himself in the Chapel of Our Lady Undercroft below Canterbury Cathedral. )

Brighton Rock (dogdaysofsummer Day 01)

*flailing dance of glee* dogdaysofsummer! dogdaysofsummer! dogdaysofsummer!

Title: Brighton Rock
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Prompt: warm stones
Summary: Brighton beach, 1979-ish. 232 words.

( The shingle is warm beneath his aching feet )