Passing through Hemel Hempstead on the way to Tring. For some reason always a source of mirth.

Ivinghoe Beacon in the distance.

The sun starting to think about setting.

Where I sat to watch the sunset, with some Rathfinny Blanc de Noirs.

There goes the sun.

On the train on the way home, passing through Berkhamsted. Plenty of names to conjure with on that line.