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A small plaque high on the wall...

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Today I went for a stroll down by the old harbour in the historic seaside town of Weymouth in Dorset. The late winter sun came out and promised that warmth is soon to return. As I passed by the harbour master's offices, I glanced up to a small weathered plaque high up on the wall that I hadn't noticed before. I stepped closer to read it and then felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and goosebumps on my arms...

 

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Phew! That's quite some plaque...

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One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."  Henry Miller

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The story of the Black Death and it's ongoing effects over the centuries is a fascinating one.  One of the most evocative places I've been in England was to Eyam in Derbyshire, where houses have signs posted at the sidewalks for passersby to know the individuals and families taken by the plague.  The village is not an empty museum site, but a living place, attached firmly to it's history:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eyam

 

One of my all-time favorite books is 'Year of Wonders', by Geraldine Brooks, telling of living through the plague in such a village.  Very moving.

 

Thanks, Mac, for this bit of the puzzle, the beginning.  Very important.

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