Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and thanks to Sandra Crook for providing the photo this week.
I’m a Dorset lass born and bred, and this old castle has some fond memories.
When we were kids, you were allowed to enter some of the grounds, and some of us slid down the grassy banks on our butts.
Those were the days when you could camp in a farmer’s empty field as long as you left it clear and tidy afterwards.
Dad told us the sheep had two legs shorter than the other so that they didn’t fall off the hillside, so they could only face one way.