The photo here is just west of Bournemouth on the south coast of England.
Before arriving in Bournemouth, we spent a good half day driving into and
out of
London from Heathrow, after which we vowed never to drive in London
again.
After the weekend in Bournemouth, we wandered through Oxford, Tewkesbury,
Gloucester, Cheltenham, Woucester, where we saw lots of old things,
and Stratford where we saw the Royal Shakespeare Company's rendition
of A Midsummer Night's Dream, which is also an old thing. Happily,
this version
was quite innovative.
We learned to pronounce knife as 'noweefe' and to eat English Breakfasts
with great gusto, particularly if there was a convenient recess into which
the sausage could
be dropped. We hiked in the Cotswolds, lost the keys to our car,
were befriended by pre-mad-cow-disease-generated-embargo-beef-farmers-turned-crop-farmers,
found the keys to our car, and set off fire alarms in our hotel.
We continued on through the Lake District, staying at the inimitable
Betty Fishwick's. You don't believe me? Look:
If you happen to be in Stavely, give Betty a call, and stay in her
16th century house. Mind yourself though; if you're there on the
first thursday of the
month she'll ask you to leave a little early so that she can make an
'appointment'. (Morning Coffee at the town hall).
Finally we arrived in Glasgow, where we had a wonderful weekend with Steve and Eileen. We saw the spot where the Campbells slaughtered the McDonalds