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Home Page Two Moorhens strut and hop from rock to rock at the edge of the river which is fairly low and stirred up into eddies of pollution foam as it flows over the old, ruined weir. An unexpected landscape comes into sight behind an old mill; horses graze amongst the trees and hedges. We're actually overlooking the motorway but here its down in a cutting, out of sight and, to some extent, out of earshot.
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