IT was a clear early spring day, the breeze light and the sands empty. Sea and land seemed to go on forever, their divisions blurred by light and distance. Brigitte Wetherby breathed in the salty air

Sylvia was bored to tears. She almost wished she’d gone with the others to the garden centre. But she’d had it with garden centres, and what was the point when the gardens here were looked after by pr

Trish realised that she had something that money can’t buy

● CERTAIN PHRASES, LIFTED FROM famous writers, ...

“ Parked up at The Little Roadway Farm Campsite at the top of Challacombe Hill, we excitedly made our way across the National Trust car park and then carefully down the old Smugglers Path towards town

A VISIT to the local coffee shop following their Pilates class had become a welcome routine for the three retired friends. One morning Lyn ordered her favourite flat white, insisting she wanted nothin