You step down through the gate onto a path that occupies the top of a fairly narrow causeway. On the left is a leet, a channel feeding water to a mill that is out of sight ahead; much farther down to the right is the river.
     On the leet swim a drake and fourteen ducks, even though, earlier in the year, gulls ate six out of a brood of ten ducklings.
     Because the leet has been diverted from it, the riverbed at times has the smaller flow of water, which because of the curve runs along the right or farther side, leaving fallen stones exposed on the nearer side. Not long ago there was a greater pile of rubble: a substantial piece of the causeway had collapsed into the river. (The sight made one realize that this stone-braced ribbon of ground between two water-ditches, though in place for centuries, is precarious.) Some of the fallen blocks still lie among the more irregular stones in the riverbed. The path was closed while the causeway was repaired. Hence the large patch of pale new stonework down to your right. It's good stonework, but an opportunity was missed: there was once, just here, a set of steps down to the river, so that women could descend and wash clothes. That historic detail could have been re-created.
     On the left, the first house, which makes a sharp corner with the street, has its foundation washed by the leet. The other houses have gardens, with their own little bridges across the leet.
     On the right, across the chasm of ther river, are houses that descend to it like cliffs. Then, a footbridge toward a small green ledge on the other bank.
     Just past the footbridge, water thunders from the leet down through a sluice, rejoining the river and leaving the further course of the leet dry; unless the sluice gate is down, in which case the leet rustles on. At the end of the causeway, leet and path curve left, leaving space for a triangular flowerbed which, all summer, is a splash of varied colours. And, just beyond the flowerbed, a space with a seat high above the river. (Looking over, you can see that a tree grows out of the stonework.)
     Among little walls and railings the leet and path cross, and the leet pierces into Town Mill. As you descend the now narrow and steep path to the mill's left, you hear through gratings the rumbling of the great wheel turning in the mill's bowels.
     The path emerges in what I suppose the English call a square, though it is any shape but a square, down in front of the mill buildings. The river has made a twist and reappears in a curving trench to the right. There are chances for refreshment here, not only inside the mill, but in a café terrace to the left. Or go on up the short slit of Mill Lane to emerge into Coombe Street, from which you separated a little while back. You can turn left or right, or there's a pretty little street that opens almost opposite.