illagers, chins tucked deep into their collars, are hurrying to “father” Jessy Green’s midnight mass. The smell of freshly baked Christmas stollen from Pete Hammersmith’s bakery, and warm wine fill the streets of Bridbury. A warm light illuminates the last glittering remains of snow and the childrens’ choir from the "St. Joseph Primary School" is already to be heard in the distance. The strong Christmas beer is being served in Bobby Taylor’s pub.
It‘s time to tighten the bonds of friendship by sharing a meal at restaurant "Eating Time". Time to tell stories by the open hearth in the "Victoria Inn" hotel. Bridbury’s stories, which give the inhabitants a place of their own in history and which leave tracks in the snow following in the footsteps of generations before.
