Ok, so put aside Big Ben, The Buckingham Palace and all those typical sites. Appealing as they may be, we’ve all heard about them a million times and everyone i’m sure has seen their fair share of photos. I can’t lie and say that I didn’t hustle up to the front of big ben with a Cheshire Cat smile on my face, but to write about it I think would be boring.
So instead, I’ve become hooked on these rolling green hills that seem to be absolutely everywhere in England. These fascinating hills mounted with every shade of green you could ever imagine. The dream landscape painters master upon their canvases.
I’ve made good use of the intricate rail system in the UK. It leaves me mesmerized staring out the window completely forgetting where i’m meant to be getting off or how long I’ve been hypnotized by these fields brimming with history of kings and queens, battles and hardship and glorious victories.
I can’t help but wonder just how old every house, wall, fence or stone just might be. I want to run off this train and straight into these fields. I want to plump my behind under a tree and read a book, well… if it could stop raining for just one day.
It is a beautiful place, and I’m pleased to say that I can now finally stop wondering just what it’s like. The houses are all cramped with one another, the buildings are older than I could have ever imagined, the roads, so many of which are made of stones are far too narrow to fit a “normal” size car on them, the vegetables are not overcooked like I had thought and the soups and stews are so flavourful they will make you weak at the knees. The people are friendly, the transportation although always late is very useful and best of all the scenery will never get old.