With still my holiday goggles on maybe, I can tell you with some certainty that in this part of the world that I now inhabit that is not the case. There are few places that I have seen on my (quite extensive) travels that offer a more picturesque environment. There are few places where the lanes are as wide as the car you are in but there is not a pot hole or scraping branch in sight. There are few places where homes are in buildings that are hundreds of years old, homes that pre date the roads, and today their stone walls are bombarded with ivy and hanging baskets. Where there is acre upon acre of different coloured farmland where the fence is rickety and only a meter high. Where at the end of a driveway so impossibly long, sits a pile worth more than a small country.
Where in the summer months today, not that it gets too hot too often; this small village becomes a resort for tourists, campers and hikers from all countries. Where the bars, restaurants and the pavements are full of happy people, where the beach is a sea of colour with all the kiters.
Until tomorrow. Hope you like the pictures.
This is the land where, today the hunt gathers in the winter months to chase the fox – although not to kill it anymore because that would be illegal - and hundreds of years ago, the Kings men rode their steeds in pursuit of his orders. Where the evidence today is the ancient oil paintings depicting the scene and the dotted ruins of castles built on outcrops of rock. Where centuries old pubs, found in the oddest of corners each tell their own story. Arguably there is no prettier place than this part of the English countryside.
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