For the past week, I have been trying to process the sounds, smells, and sights of our amazing trip to England. I have dumped three cameras’ worth of photos into iphoto. Now I’m migrating photos to facebook and flickr, to share and for posterity, but uploading and labeling is a really slow exercise. What I really want to do is write a book-length essay about every detail so I never forget this trip that we’re not likely to repeat soon. But for now, I replay the scenes that form the metaphysical space between each photograph.
Highlights:
climbing to the top of steep hills, which became our theme pretty quickly //
not only spotting a white horse or two from the road, but seeing them close up // joining the National Trust, for which we dictated our vitals to a clerk who wrote the info up on an NCR form; the process took forever // marveling at the woo-woo New Age-y town of Glastonbury // lunching on pasties purchased in West Country bakeries // enjoying beautiful weather (mid-70s, blue skies, sunshine), which allowed us ridiculous vistas //
making a pilgrimage to Persephone Books on Lamb’s Conduit (London) and finding a few souvenirs // drinking countless pints of cider // meeting the local color by way of passionate innkeepers, waiters, and regulars // watching the boys fly kites on Dragon Hill // watching a hawk hunt while floating on a current at Stonehenge // walking the one-mile, standing stone–dotted perimeter of Avebury //
overshooting the road to Hounds Tor in Dartmoor because our randomly chosen backup tor was Hookney Tor and the Grimspound, which is the setting for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Hounds of the Baskerville // spending two glorious nights at Lydford House, between Okehampton and Tavistock // dipping my toes in an absurdly cold English Channel
more to come
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