This is the most beautiful town I've ever seen, I think, my heart surging as I admire the steep banks along the river, coloured stone houses atop. I'm on a journey with a forgotten reason, sitting closely next to a mountain of a man on a little boat. I try to think back, we had started out driving a truck, then a train and now this. At the end of the town is the harbour and a steep mountain beyond. The man next to me puts his hand on mine and awkwardly starts to caress my fingers. He looks at me, 'You feel something too don't you?' he says. I pull away my hand and pat his back, 'I'm afraid I don't.' I say with as much warmth as I can. He looks crushed. 'I was going to suggest we take a little holiday, to Spain,' he tells me, gesturing towards the sea, 'they run boats from here.' We have to wait for another train so I drag him up the mountain. At the top is a folly which we climb called the Duke of Marlborough Tower. He tells me the story. 'They used to look out here for the enemy, but the Duke, when he got word from the King that he should proceed to attack only if safe to do so, never found it to be wholly safe.' The view is amazing. 'What's the name of this town?' I ask. But my friend has gone.