Highs and lows

Hello you lovely people! Are you ready for the second installment of my travelogue? I know I am! 

And we were definitely ready for another day of adventure on Monday the 10th of June, even if the weather gods once again did their best to dampen our enthusiasm. Although we were woken up by the rain pitter-pattering on the cowshed's roof, the sun was out when we finally set off to our chosen destination, making our spirits rise and our hearts beat with excitement!

For the third year in a row, we'd ordered a National Trust Touring Pass, which offers excellent value for money. The difference this year was that we no longer had to obtain a physical pass, which could only be done at a limited number of properties. Moving ahead with the times, the Trust had gone digital and entrance to any property was now through a barcode and/or reference number supplied to us by email.

This meant that we weren't obliged to go to Powis Castle to obtain our pass. So, what did we do? Exactly! Same as we did in previous years, our first proper day would be spent at the red castle perched dramatically on a narrow ridge above its world-famous terraced gardens.

The property is just across the border in Wales, and getting there involves a leisurely drive of about half an hour, the road meandering along the border, welcoming us to Wales one minute and back to England the next.

Walking up from the car park to the castle's courtyard, taking a shortcut across a grassy knoll rather than following the tarmacked path (boring!), we were escorted by one of the resident peahens and her brood of pea-babies!

Powis Castle was built in the mid-13th century by a Welsh prince - Gruffudd ap Gwenwynwyn - who wanted to establish his independence from his traditional enemies, the aggressive princes of Gwynedd in the North-West of Wales. 

The castle has been rebuilt several times and underwent intensive renovations by Sir Edward Herbert (1542–95), who acquired the castle in 1587. In the 18th century the title passed to the Clive family, although part of the inheritance stipulated that they should change their name to Herbert.

Further refurbishments followed in the early 19th as well as the early 20th centuries, the latter by George and Violet Herbert. Having lost both sons - in WWI and WWII respectively - there was no immediate heir to inherit the estate, which prompted George to leave the castle, garden and part of the deer park to the National Trust in 1952.

Potted history lesson done and dusted, it was time to descend into the garden and explore the first layers of the garden terraces. Although this was no less than our fifth visit to the castle, we were still mesmerized by the breath-taking panorama with its backdrop of rolling hills, made even more glorious by the dome of blue sky and dramatic cloudscape.

One of the garden's most eye-catching features are its cloud-like clipped yews which tumble over the terraces and date back to the 17th century. In late summer and early autumn the estate gardeners spend several weeks trimming the 14-metre high topiary bushes aided by a hydraulic cherry-picker!

A statue by the famous 18th century garden sculptor John van Nost, of Hercules slaying the Hydra or many-headed serpent, is taking pride of place against the backdrop of cloudy yew hedge.

As our stomachs had started rumbling by now, we interrupted our explorations by climbing back up to the Courtyard Café. Regally striding into our direction was one of the peacocks who rule the roost here. I wonder if it was Colin, Alan or Perry? Or perhaps one of the later additions to the menagerie, Mr. Humphreys or Captain Peacock? Whoever he was, he didn't stop to pass the time of day and nor did he oblige by fanning out his tail feathers.

The moody sky spoke of imminent rain and indeed, while I was safely ensconced into an alcove in the café there was a heavy downpour which made the people who were enjoying cups of tea in the courtyard flee inside for shelter. It was over in less than 5 minutes and in fact Jos, who was queueing for food at the time, hadn't even noticed.

After lunch, it was time for a walk in the wilderness. Or rather: Wilderness, with a capital W, which the wooded ridge opposite the castle is known as.

On previous occasions, we were thankful to take refuge from the heat of the sun by walking under the canopies of the great oaks and exotic trees in this informal part of the garden. Now, at a mere 12°C, we were shivering in spite of wearing many layers under our leather jackets. At one point, I was even lamenting the fact that I'd neglected to bring gloves!

Passing the stable pond and the plunge pool on our way to the pet cemetery on the highest level of the ridge, we were stopped in our tracks by the sight of a giant foot. This is the Patagonian Foot, which was sculpted in 1987 by Vincent Woropay (1951 - 2002). 

As directed by the nice chap at the garden checkpoint, we were making our way to the estate's latest attraction, an impressive tree carving skilfully created by the renowned local artist, Simon O'Rourke. 

We were duly impressed by the two friendly dragons - well, they're wyverns, actually - guarding two eggs from which their offspring are hatching. Both adults carry saddles on their backs, so that you can let your inner child take you on magical adventures.

As we continued our walk in the Wilderness, we kept catching glimpses of the castle perched on the opposite ridge. Then, after making our descent into the lower reaches of the garden, we arrived at the edge of the Great Lawn, offering a magnificent vista of the castle and its frothing layers of terraces. 

The terraces at Powis Castle are said to be the finest surviving example of a 17th century terrace garden in Britain. 

When George Herbert, great-grandson of Clive of India, inherited the title of  Earl of Powis along with the castle and estate in 1891, his wife Violet persuaded him to let her improve the garden. 

The Fountain Garden is one of the additions made by Violet, replacing a kitchen garden which she considered unsightly. On our previous visits, we thankfully made use of the pink and blue deckchairs bearing the National Trust emblem set out on the lawn here. This time around, they were conspicuous by their absence, so we sat down on a sheltered bench soaking up some welcome sunshine.

In 1912, Violet commissioned the spectacular wrought iron gates near the fountain garden as a present for George’s birthday. Above the gate is the Powis coat of arms, and surmounting each pillar is a wyvern (a legendary dragon-like creature), one of which is holding a severed hand in its mouth.

For those who are intrigued, the key difference is that a wyvern has two legs, whereas a dragon has four.

What comes down must go up, so eventually we had to climb up to the courtyard again via several seemingly neverending sets of stone steps. 

At the foot of the steps which lead from the Orangery Terrace to the Top Terrace (below, top right), we met the oldest peacock in residence, dating from the 1800s, cast in lead and with its tail feathers fully fanned. Having arrived at the top, two real life peacocks accompanied us on our way out.

After re-joining our car, we drove back across the border to England for a relaxing evening at the cowshed.

And look, I even braved the sub-standard temperatures to show you what I was wearing underneath that orange leather jacket!

Continuing with the highs and lows, we'd planned a day of charity shopping and sightseeing in Bridgnorth on Tuesday. 

This time, the weather gods tricked us into thinking it would a fair weather day by treating us to full-on sunshine from the moment we got up. More fool us, as we'd hardly started out on our 50-minute journey to our destination when the first drops of rain appeared on our windscreen.

Grey skies and sunny spells, with the odd spot of drizzle thrown in, would be our lot all day, and the prevailing blustery wind made sure that the mercury didn't climb higher than Monday's 12°C.

After parking our car in High Town, we trawled the town's many charity shops, searching in vain for some long-sleeved garments to join my meagre supply of cold-weather clothes. It was in the final shop that I came across this peasant-style embroidered long-sleeved denim blouse, which was new-with-tags from Sainsbury's Tu label.

Mission accomplished, we had lunch at the town's branch of Wetherspoon's, The Jewel of the Severn.

Bridgnorth, which lies in the south-eastern part of Shropshire, sits high on a sandstone cliff with spectacular views of the Severn Valley. The town is actually divided in two – High Town and Low Town.

Our first port of call after lunch was St. Leonard's Church, which stands in a peaceful close of its own at the highest point of the town. While I was taking photographs, Jos was already taking shelter from the biting wind inside the church porch. 

The red Gothic tower of St Leonard's dominates Bridgnorth's skyline. Inside, the church has the airy vastness of a cathedral. Seemingly medieval, it is in fact almost entirely a Victorian restoration. This is because disaster struck during the Civil War when St Leonard's was used by Cromwell's troops as an ammunition store. A cannon shot caused it to explode, and fire swept through the town. The church was repaired, and in the 17th century, the magnificent nave roof was installed. Most of the current church dates from the 19th century.

Eight sets of ancient donkey steps connect High and Low Town and we took the so-called Granary Steps leading down from St. Leonard's to the River Severn. 

We were sheltered from the wind here, so we ambled around the quayside, where I patiently waited for a break in the traffic crossing the Severn Bridge to take a photo of the iconic Ridley Seeds ghost sign.

Next on our itinerary were the sandstone rocks nestling beneath Castle Hill. These contain a number of caves, one of which is known as Lavington’s Hole, a 70 foot tunnel under Castle Hill dug by Colonel Lavington during the Civil War. Knowing that the Royalists stored their gunpowder in St Mary's, his aim was to blow up the church. However, the tunnel was never completed as the Royalists surrendered on the 26th of April 1646.

The tunnel's entrance is still on show today, but due to safety reasons it cannot be entered. Not that my claustrophobia would have allowed me to do so ...

What comes down must go up, part 2. But there was no way that we would attempt another set of those donkey steps! 

As the famous and much-loved Cliff Railway re-opened in March after having been out of action for 14 months, we were obviously raring to return to High Town in style again.

It might look quite steep - in fact it is one of the steepest funicular railways in Britain - but there's nothing to it really, even if going down is a bit more stomach-churning than going up. 

The railway operates two cars on parallel tracks. Connected by steel ropes, the carriages serve to counterbalance each other – as one rises to the top station, the other runs to the bottom station. 

I've made a little video while we were going up to give you some idea.

And surely the panorama which opens up when you're at the top, of Low Town and the Severn Valley beyond, is simply breathtaking ...

It was far too chilly to remove my jacket while we were out and about, but as I couldn't possibly leave you without showing my outfit, we once again briefly stepped outside when back at the cowshed.

I combined my groovilicious maxi skirt - last worn in May, here - with a pink cotton cable-knit jumper, a fuchsia leather belt and my wooden discs necklace from Accessorize. Even layered with a vest and long-sleeved t-shirt and with a cardigan worn on top, I was still feeling the cold ...

We had to be up early the next day as we had some very exciting plans ... but that, my friends, will be for next time.

See you soon!

On the edge

After a brief interruption to catch up on life back on the hamster wheel, it's high time I continued with my Shropshire travelogue. As we weren't even a week in at the end of episode # 3, I'll have to get my skates on, I suppose. A quick glance at the calendar tells me that in just over six weeks' time we'll be packing our bags again for our yearly sojourn in Belgium's west country. So near, and yet so far away ...

So, let's get cracking with the 4th installment, shall we?

It was Friday the 16th of June, and it promised to be another scorcher, with forecasted highs of  26°C. Thursday's blogger meet-up at Attingham Park had sapped our energy somewhat, so we slept just that little bit longer, finally managing to drag ourselves out of the four-poster just before the clock struck half past eight.

Due to the late start, we decided to postpone our original plans to visit the Rock Houses at Kinver Edge, a National Trust managed site which had been on our list for many years.  

Instead, we thought we'd drive over to one of our favourite Shropshire towns and do nothing more strenuous than go for a stroll and a mooch around the charity shops.

En route, we stopped at the top of the lane leading away from our little valley to take a photo. The cowshed is part of the huddle of mostly farm buildings nestled below the elongated plateau known as the Long Mynd.

The Shropshire town we were honouring with a visit was Bridgnorth, a 50 minute or so drive from our valley. This delightful town of two halves, with High Town perching on a sandstone cliff overlooking the Severn and Low Town along the river's banks, had been on our itinerary during all three of our previous Shropshire holidays as well.

We decided to start our visit in Low Town with a treasure hunt and a spot of lunch at Old Mill Antiques. We stumbled upon it by chance back in 2018, when we'd whizzed down from High to Low Town on the Cliff Railway. Sadly, any whizzing up or down the famous funicular would have been out of the question now, but more about this later. 

Instead, we made our way there by car, our Satnav declaring we had arrived when we were in the middle of negotiating a roundabout. There was nothing for it but to drive on and away from the town until we were able to park, have a look at Google maps, and drive back the way we'd come. Well, what can I say other than that we hadn't reached our holiday's quota of getting lost yet ... 

Having finally made it to the antiques centre, we oohed, aahed and meh'd over the stock crammed into every available nook and cranny, making only one purchase - the figurine on the top left - after which we had lunch in the on-site Alice in Wonderland themed café.

Hunger pangs sated, we hopped back into our car and continued to High Town. The weather had become sticky and stifling by then, so that even a rummage in the charity shops lining the town's High Street proved to be a bit of an effort. Pickings were therefore very slim: I only found a pair of chunky plastic rings, in orange and purple.

One of the highlights of every visit to Bridgnorth is strolling along Castle Walk, which runs from the Cliff Railway's Top Station, past St. Mary's church and onto the landscaped Castle Grounds, and offering breath-taking views across the Severn Valley.

Sadly, however, most of Castle Walk has been closed off. Bridgnorth Cliff Railway itself was closed back at the end of December until further notice pending the rebuilding of the Castle Walk retaining wall. Although the part of the wall nearest to the Cliff Railway was completed by June, the scaffolding for the next section of wall needed to be supported from the tracks for safety reasons. See this photo courtesy of the Cliff Railway's website. Oh well, next year, perhaps?

We were only able to access the stretch of Castle Walk near Castle Grounds, where the Castle Keep is all that remains of the once vast Norman castle. As a result of a botched attempt to blow up the building by the Parliamentarians during the Civil War, the Castle Keep now leans at a precarious 15-degree angle, which is three times greater than the Tower of Pisa!

I was very excited to finally become a member of the Bandstand Appreciation Society. Sadly, I found out that this is a replacement of the original Victorian one, which was taken down in 1940 so that its metal parts could be melted down for the war effort.

The war memorial is listed Grade II and was designed by Captain Adrian Jones and erected in 1920. The life-size bronze soldier is dressed in the uniform of the Shropshire Light Infantry and is shown in the act of throwing a grenade.

While Jos took a breather on a bench, I explored the garden, running up to the railing overlooking the Severn Valley Railway station when one of the steam-hauled trains whistled its imminent arrival . A ride on this award-winning heritage railway is yet another thing we'll have to come back for.

Then we returned to the car park, crossing the road to Sainsbury's for a food shop before returning home. Well, our temporary one anyway.

Saturday the 17th of June dawned grey and drizzly, which was a bit of a turn-up for the books. But our weather app said it wouldn't last and that the mercury would climb to 23°C once the clouds had lifted.

Our destination for the day was the one we'd postponed on Friday, the Rock Houses at Kinver Edge. As Claire and Gareth only live about 15 minutes away, we'd agreed to meet up with them.

I'm pleased to report that for once that pesky weather app got it right as, apart from a brief and brisk shower just minutes after we'd driven off, it would be dry and fairly warm for the rest of the day.

Our journey once again took us into the direction of Bridgnorth, before proceeding towards and through rural Staffordshire. After passing through Kinver, we spotted a sign directing us to the Rock Houses, so we turned right although our Satnav kept insisting on a left turn, and parked in the layby car park just minutes before Claire and Gareth's red beetle rounded the corner.

Living so close by, they know the area well, and often walk on Kinver Edge, a 250-million-year-old sandstone escarpment with sweeping views over Shropshire, Staffordshire and Worcestershire from the ramparts of an imposing Iron Age Hill Fort.  Additionally, Kinver Edge has a network of cavernous houses carved into its three rocks. 

When Claire and Gareth offered to take us on a walk encompassing the legendary Nanny's Rock, we jumped at the chance. As I'd been reading up on the area, I'd come across quite a few references to these atmospheric caves, which apparently were poorly signposted and thus not straightforward to find.

Nanny’s Rock is an unrestored rock house carved into the sandstone. It used to be called "Meg-o-Fox-Hole" and it is thought that a lady called ‘Margaret of the Fox earth’ used to dwell here until her death in 1617. But who was she? Legend has it that she was a reclusive woman who could cure your ailments and tell your fortune and might therefore have been considered a witch. Later occupants were Sarah Evans (1820) and Nancy Evans (1830), the latter perhaps having been responsible for the name Nanny's Rock.

Whatever the case, I was enchanted at first glance. When I posted the above photo on Instagram, Claire commented that it looked like a pair of fearsome eyes emerging from the ground ... Well, it does, doesn't it?

It was definitely worth the scramble to get up into the cave where the layers of rich red sandstone were etched and scoured with decades if not centuries old graffiti, among them the creepy Scream mask on the top left.

I love the photo Claire took of Jos and me on the foxglove lined path leading up to the rock.

The National Trust was given 198 acres of Kinver Edge in 1917 in memory of Thomas Grosvenor Lee, a Birmingham solicitor born in Kinver. Today they care for close to 600 acres of this special landscape.

A brass relief map at the north end, presented by the local Rotary Club in 1990, points to a selection of the world's major capitals, in addition to less distant landmarks. The Malvern Hills, 30 miles (48km) to the south, and the Long Mynd, the same distance to the west, are visible on a clear day and, at times, it may be possible to see the Black Mountains, over 45 miles (72km) away. 

But for all its breathtaking views, the main interest on Kinver Edge lies below the summit, in small houses carved into the rock.

After having safely deposited us back on the car park, Claire and Gareth bade us goodbye and, as it was well after 1 pm by now, we ravenously devoured the sandwiches we'd brought for our picnic.

Then, a short walk to the east of the car park took us to the National Trust managed dwellings at Holy Austin Rock. Legend has it that it was named after a hermit who lived near the site. 

Kinver Edge was home to England’s last troglodytes or cave dwellers. In fact, people lived here until they were persuaded to swap their caves for local council housing in the mid-1950s, leaving a 400-year legacy behind.

They led comparatively comfortable lives, away from society and surrounded by nature: their water came from the deepest private well in Britain and the easy-to-carve sandstone made house renovations simple: inside space was determined by how much sandstone could be dug out. Rooms could therefore be larger and ceilings higher than in the cottages and back-to-backs of towns.

The earliest record of people living here is in 1777 when Joseph Heely took refuge from a storm and was given shelter by a "clean and decent family". 

By 1860, 44 people were living across 11 houses at Holy Austin. Word got out about this Black Country beauty spot, and from 1901 a new light railway – Britain’s first cross-country tramway – ushered visitors into an area that was being trumpeted as the “Switzerland of the Midlands”. The inhabitants served teas from their rock homes to visitors. A café continued here until 1967, long after the last occupants had moved out. This legacy continues today – the upper level of houses have been restored as a tea-room.

It was in the 1980s that plans were drawn up to renovate the houses to their original state, a task achieved with the help of postcards from 100 years earlier. 

The rebuilding was completed in 1993 and the site was again occupied, this time by a National Trust custodian. While this house is private, the interiors of the lower rock houses can be visited daily during the Summer months and on weekends and selected days off-season.

Visitors may be surprised at just how cosy the houses feel. The combination of thick sandstone and fireplaces kept them warm in winter and cool in summer, while in many places interior walls were plastered and whitewashed. 

Today, Holy Austin Rock has also been designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) for its sandstone, which was formed from solidified sand dunes in the Permian era, 250 million years ago.

We ended our visit with a welcome drink in the tearoom, which mainly has outside seating offering extensive views over Kinver and beyond. While Jos found us a suitable table, I joined the queue leading into the tiny serving premises. This being a Saturday afternoon, it was understandably doing a brisk trade.

On the way back to the cowshed, we stopped at the 12th Century St. Mary the Virgin church in Enville. Well, we just had to, hadn't we, as there was a sign telling us to slow down!

Enville, and the Enville Estate in particular, is one of Claire's favourite places to walk, and she has, in fact, blogged about this particular church here.

It totally slipped my mind to seek out the three graves belonging to the ancient order of The Knights Templar which she mentions in her post, so that's yet another reason to return to this area which has truly captured our hearts.

I did manage to capture the alabaster tomb belonging to Thomas Grey and his wife, Anne, who died in 1559, and the organ which came from St Leonard's church, Bridgnorth and was given to the church in the 1970s.

The interior was in semi-darkness until the lights were switched on by a man in shorts and t-shirt, who told us that, in spite of the lack of dog collar, he was actually the vicar. He was quite chuffed when we told him we were from Belgium, and pointed out some of the church's highlights, including four 15th Century misericords or mercy seats.

Having said our goodbyes to the vicar, we continued our journey back to Shropshire, whose boundaries we had left a couple of times already by now.  

Would we cross the border into other counties and countries again in the week to come? You will find out if you join me again for the next episodes of my travelogue!

Farewell to the blue remembered hills

It was the Thursday of our second week and, as our holiday was nearing its sell-by date, we were starting to feel just a tiny bit morose. We could get used to this, we mused. To the peace and quiet, the sense of freedom, the not having to do anything we didn't feel like doing. Oh, I know very well that all good things must somehow come to an end, but it is getting harder and harder each time to leave the good life behind for the hamster wheel of daily life.

So far, we had been taking each day as it presented itself, often making spur of the moment decisions while having a leisurely breakfast washed down with copious cups of coffee.

This day was no exception, but we lingered a bit longer than usual, as it dawned on us that yet again we hadn't even scratched the surface of what Shropshire has to offer. Having finally come to a decision, it was past 10.30 when we were on the road. The destination we entered into our Satnav was one which might sound familiar. Indeed, we already visited the charming black-and-white and up- and-down town of Brigdnorth on our very first day.

After parking our car, we walked towards the bustling High Street, which features several fine 17th century buildings, including the Town hall (above, bottom right). There's also no shortage of charity shops, but by the time our stomachs told us it was time for lunch, we'd only found a shirt for Jos.

Lunch was had at the local Wetherspoon's - where else - which was packed to the rafters, so that we had a bit of a wait.

Then we ambled around the corner and uphill from the High Street towards the highest point of the town, where St. Leonard's Church is taking pride of place in a peaceful close of its own.

The current church, which is built in the rich red coloured local sandstone, dates from the second half of the 17th century and was extensively restored in the mid-19th century.

Inside, the church which is redundant and has been designated by English Heritage as a Grade II listed building, has the airiness of a cathedral.

As Bridgnorth is a town with a split personality, and we'd arrived in High Town, our aim was to visit its other half, which rather unsurprisingly is called Low Town and nestles on the banks of the River Severn.

We decided against taking St. Leonard's Steps, leading down from the church close, and just one of a total of seven sets of steps connecting the town's two halves. 

Instead, we took the steep and winding Cartway which until 1786 was the only route between the two and which at one point had some 50 pubs along its length.

A number of caves, which were once used as dwellings, were dug out of the sandstone cliff, their boarded up remains commemorated by plaques. There were plaques on some of the houses too, although not all of them were of historical value!

At the bottom of Cartway is Bishop Percy's House, an ornate timer-framed house built in 1580 by wealthy barge owner Richard Forster. It opened as a tea room in 2018, after five years of extensive renovations. Obviously, we couldn't pass the opportunity to have our version of afternoon tea, which included a slice of delicious cheese cake.

The flower filled quayside in Lower Town was the perfect place to show you what I was wearing on this perfect Summer's day. You've seen it all before: my curtain couture maxi skirt and orange polka dot blouse accessorized with a chocolate brown leather belt and a yellow beaded necklace .

The fiery orange and yellow flowers on the bottom right are trying their best to compete with my outfit but failing miserably. The locomotive artwork in the same photo is called Train of Thought and is part of an Art Trail throughout the town.

What comes down must go up, but in this case up was quite a climb, so we took the Cliff Railway instead, which only takes a matter of mere minutes. Not for the faint-hearted, though, as it really is rather steep!

Back on Castle Walk in High Town, we were rewarded by this breath-taking view of Lower Town and the Severn Valley. We took our time to sit down on a bench and stare at the bird's eye view of the  Lilliput world at our feet.

Back at the cowshed, we enjoyed this silky smooth indigo and pink sunset, which was the perfect conclusion of our day.

How bittersweet is the last day of the holidays? There's a lump in your throat and your heart feels heavy at the thought that once again, those longed-for two weeks are over. 

The blue skies that greeted us that morning spurred us on to make the most of the time we had left, so we packed a picnic and hopped over the border to Wales.

Our destination that day was a small but perfectly formed historic market town called Montgomery, which is set into the rolling Mid Wales Marches countryside.

After posting a letter to a blogger friend at the small post office, we crossed the road to investigage the delightful St. Nicholas Church.

The Grade I listed church has its origins in the 13th century and harbours delights such as beautiful stained glass, a hammer-beam roof and the magnificent 16th-century canopied Herbert tomb. Richard Herbert (d. 1593) was the lord of Montgomery Castle, and father of the poet and cleric George Herbert.

And let's not forget the disco ball!

For our final holiday picnic, we were determined to have one with a spectacular view. So we climbed the steep lane leading from The Dragon Hotel towards the remains of the 13th century Montgomery Castle.

Slightly out of breath after our exersion in the blazing midday sun, we were delighted to find a shady gazebo waiting for us. How perfect! We didn't have it to ourselves for long though, as it proved to be a popular spot for spending one's lunch break.

Perched on a rocky ridge above the town, with all-seeing views across the Welsh border, the castle's ruins which are managed by CADW, the historic environment service of the Welsh Government, are very atmospheric.

Montgomery’s stone castle, commenced in 1223, replaced a nearby wooden fort known as Hen Domen. 

Look at that stunning view behind me! I could have sat and gazed into the distance for hours, at the fields of green, and those hazy hills, and that long straight road leading who knows where, but sadly our time was up. 

So, we drove back - along that long and straight road - to the cowshed one last time to pack our bags and mentally prepare ourselves for the journey ahead.

Fast forward one day, and here I am, enjoying my last beverage on English soil at the Eurotunnel terminal. I can't wait to be back ...

And so this travelogue, like our holiday, has come to an end. But there's no reason for tears, as in less than two weeks, we'll be off on our annual trip to Belgium's west country.

Until then, there will be outfits and other things to catch up on!