Down by the River

I met Brian, walking Belle, the other day. While Islay and Belle were greeting each other in usual doggie fashion, Brian pointed down to the side of the path. "Come and have a look at this."
In a patch of sunshine (we have had some, occasionally, over the last few blustery wet days), a slow worm was lying very still. It blended in with its surroundings so well that I would never have noticed it if Brian hadn't pointed it out.
I've seen slow worms along that stretch before. They used to be at the back of Open Door, before the patch of waste ground was transformed into a garden. There was even one up in the middle of town, living under the wall of the Poetry Bookshop, for a while.