Missing England

I was sitting in the St. Philip room the other day, casually surrounded by Renaissance splendour, when I found myself suddenly longing for a fry-up in a cafe in Chester. For the sound of Cheshire accents. For an afternoon spent stomping around the fields in my wellies. For a day book shopping on the Chester wall. For crumpets. For a beer in my aunt's kitchen.

...

I'm homesick.

* ~ * ~ *

Things I miss, (not in order of precedence).


Proper manly Norman ruins. (Not these yippity-skip fluted columns and fat baroque flying infants.)


Beeston


Beeston again

The wildflowers:

Cowslips


Lesser Celandine


Wood Anemones


Daffs in March


touch-me-nots

Being at home:

Christmas in my little house.


and with the mad fam.


Uncle Mike on the Pontycyllte aquaduct

Stomping around the country in my wellies:



on the Sandstone ridge


on the Sandstone Trail


more of the trail


from Maiden Castle


pheasants



The village:

The village


St. Alban's


row cottages in the village

Random things:

the deanery of Chester Cathedral


the nicest English nuns in the world


Nice English friends.

The canals:



narrow boats

The Food.

Ohhhhh! bacon and black pudding! Yes, I miss the food. Something fierce!


Oh, how I long for a fry-up!