Thees and thous are words I can trace to the beginnings of my childhood. I imagine the trade and the fields and the river, intertwined with the literary circles. The rain settles itself upon the old houses, almost falling apart, with its distinctive wooden beams and stark white contrast. There are old pubs and tea rooms and shops selling antiques, and quiet graveyards backing onto rivers of swans and boats. And as the water flows away, so too does the daylight.