The end of the narrow street opened onto a plaza of little shops and restaurants. Rosie and Olivia Nutgrove, twin girls, from my town, were swinging their legs and drinking yellow lemonade, outside a dark glassed restaurant. We left the square through a gap between tall buildings, and passed a small green, which was surrounded by black chained bollards. People were sitting on benches and reading newspapers there. A path lead us through a small park of white and lavender blossom trees and wine berried bushes. Beachwood forest was close, but we decided to give it a miss, instead, heading for the lake. Willow trees blew fervently by the manmade square lake, which rippled with dark green waters. Fishing and paddle boating were popular here at the height of the season. Boating – ok, fishing – evil. Alongside it, a wide promenade, lined with decorative dark green street lamps, lead us to the high streets of Brentford shopping district, the epitome of good taste in fashion and antiques. We arrived at the junction onto Belfry St., a narrow paved path that lead to a small blue church. The old bell clunk and clang as we flickered past. I thought of the souls of the evil, who would be facing the fires of hell later. Did they think they could hide their deeds from God or Lucifer? It did seem that Armageddon was upon us these days, the last days of the tribulation. Were they ready to be permanently crucified by Lucifer in the afterlife?

Onward, we strolled, quietly and pensively. We wrapped up the trip with a tour of the antique car fair close-by, before heading back home by train.