Really sweet little garden where the Monks dormitory used to be. Nice little quiet spot to relax.

A small public garden close to the Cathedral, which I can imagine in the summer would be a spectacular display of flowers and shrubs both compact and tall. Jane Austen's house can be found close by, Yet I can see her characters strolling arm-in-arm right now in sweet chatter, chit chattery, throwing caution to the wind, Oh what will the matter be. Isn't California dreaming or New York, New York an anachronism? When the song would belong to the 90's and not the 18th century? In true contradictory feelings of Austen's practical male characters to her romantic female dreamers? Ambling in the garden listening to the birds chirpy-cheery, Oh my, oh dear, it's too early for the twitty-sheryll of a robin or lark. In early Spring gawk. Or a conversation chatty-natty bespoke. Kol-C, poet reviewer