I am the only guest. My ground-floor room opens off the front terrace where an elderly retainer
serves dinner. A full moon softly lights the gardens. What could be more romantic?
Only at breakfast do I realise why I feel so at home. The Fort has the feel of a small manor house
in an English village or off a Cathedral Close, though too small to be a Bishop's palace. Arches are
a different shape, servants more numerous, home-made marmalade marginally less chunky. But
the feel is there, peaceful, unpretentious, timeless, embedded in the community. What joy to be
able to stay a month, ride horse-back, bird watch, explore