Kind of Lost on A Kind of Hill

A thick spring day. The summer premonitions have been pushed back, and the sky is white. A hint of rain perhaps. No blue skies. No early August ghosts.
Walking to work this morning, I needed to call in at my doctors to drop a prescription off. I have been to the doctors numerous times over the years, but, somehow, managed to lose my way there this morning. I had gone a slightly unfamiliar way, one that I had walked before nonetheless, and maybe it was the way all the houses looked, well, not the same... but somehow, all jumbled. I mean, the architecture seemed a strange mixture of styles and resonances - for an English seaside town anyway. There seemed to be a prevalence of something fairly meditterenean going on. One building - immediately named the Observatory by me - looked oddly Italian - or maybe Maltese, a childhood echo (I lived there for a while when I was young). There seemed to be a kind of tower - the reason, I suppose, it got named the Observatory. That, and the fact that it is situated on top of a hill. Well, I call it a hill, but it is a hill situated down only one street. A lost hill I found while being (nearly) lost.
I found the doctors eventually though, handed in my prescription, and got to work ten minutes later than normal.