The warm mellow notes from my bagpipes communed with the beams, danced around the old oak windows and mingled with the Cornish sunshine as it struggled through the tiny old glass windows of this ancient Cornwall inn.The audience of Cornish country folk and tourists edged closer as the notes faded to quiet and then faded again until all that could be heard was the old clock ticking over the fireplace. Ticking as it had for centuries counting the years away in this ancient Cornwall hostelry.
Silence reigned and was enjoyed almost as much as the sounds that had occupied the tiny bar with it's antlers of ancient quarry and paintings of long forgotten English Lords of the manor with their scarlet riding costumes and leaping hounds.
This story has been renamed Bagpipe Lover and relocated to my new bagpipe site
Copyright Rob Hopcott 1999 - 2006, all rights reserved. All characters are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise.
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