Anyone with fond visions of cosy thatched
cottages with ancient chimneys curling wisps of wood smoke and chaps
with caps heartily greeting fellow sundowners over frothing ale will
be mildly disappointed.
There is no well endowed wench behind the bar
nor huddle of bubbling conversation with oldest friends. The spindly
spinsters patching patchwork quilts and the apple-red faced farmers
have long since passed away along with the young families and local
ties and tied cottages.
This is New England and Little London has long
since enveloped the village.
But there is still news