What were we looking for? We, I suppose, not at the beginning nor at the end, but for a large part, meaning me.

     The perfect country pub? The one we'd stumbled upon years ago off this same beaten track, but had never quite managed (as if it was our Brigadoon) to find again.

     Perhaps.

     Was it something rather more elusive? Faith? Love? A line from a half-remembered song? The spoor of a vintage film? Mr Memory? A painting of a Derby-winning horse? A vanished golf course? Some faded memorabilia, pictures from a dog-eared album, the legacy of