Dorn, just north of Moreton-in-Marsh, England (lat. 52.004°, long. -1.702°)
The moon shone at just the right angle and intensity and painfully tart gray-blue. It was the middle of the night, the sun as distant as it could be from this scene. My view out the front window of this bedroom where my wife Denise and I took our rest was through a freshly-washed modern glass. The building, however, was about 150 years old. A recent construction, in these parts.
This was England, 1997, a mere two weeks after a Princess of theirs died in a car crash in France. It was hard to picture such a glamorous globe-hopper as Diana ever setting foot in the Cotswolds town of Moreton-in-Marsh, on the northern fringe of which sat this bed-and-breakfast, shielding us from gentle October winds. On the map, it was tantalizingly close to a dot, a place-name, not even a town, but an intersection of two mysteriously tiny roads. Dorn, the dot said. (more…)
