I was up on the former racecourse at Groenendaal yesterday. I go every couple of weeks or so, rarely is there nothing to write about.
The area where the Highland cattle graze, slowly creating a species-rich environment where once crowds gathered to cheer on horses, in a space hewn out of the Forest at a king’s behest, is very dry and brown.
I’m pleased I passed this way, picking up a discarded bottle, already hot under the sun’s rays. Curved surfaces focus. An accident waiting to happen.