It's been wet and dreary the past few days. I haven't ventured out much more than my reading, writing and my cold will allow. Keep wating for another castle or village, because I'll get there someday. I've got a local bus pass, but will need to take the trains to see more of this country in future.
This is our lovely little stove, which we burn in the evenings, for the English, above all, admire a quiet fireside.
Departing for an old country inn in Hedley-on-the-Hill. Driving through the countryside from Gateshead to Hedley
Blurred photographs, but things will clear up when we get to the inn. Notice all the stone cottages; quintessentially English.
Arrived, one can smell the barn animals...
The Feathers Inn, since the eleventh century, but the building itself dates to the eighteenth century (a newer inn).
"But when you have lost your Inns... you will have lost the last of England."
Inside, the traditional white plaster and beam interior.
The gentleman standing in the back was dressed in a traditional tweed waistcoat (with lapels) and jacket. A broad laugh, very English!
This place is the most English I have ever encountered. One could almost smell the quiet mixture of stone and shrubbery. It was like stepping into a mother goose tale.
An English rose, trailing up a lattice...
A traditional English country suit in a village shop, below (notice the lapels on the waistcoat)
The church, founded in the seventh century... This was an old Roman town.
