a holiday...

Maybe it is the bipolar weather of midwinter or maybe it is the way these grey days make me think of Jane Eyre wandering along the moors, but right now I wish I was in England. It has been on my mind for months. It started with my ritual viewing of "The Holiday" at Christmastime.  I know that there will not be a devilishly handsome (and rather pissed) Jude Law lookalike there to play tour guide to the charms of English village life and I know at this moment the weather is no better, probably worse than it is here. But I want it all the same. 

I want to walk these streets:

Rummage through history:

Walk amongst the heather:

Find new favorites with people like this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

Try new foods like haggis and blood pudding... maybe.

I'd even take getting thrown in the stocks again:

And drink the "awfully curative" waters at Bath:

If it meant I could see places like this:

And this: 

And this:

So friends, let's go. Let's fly to the place where people actually speak with the accents we copy daily. Who needs savings when we have all of these beautiful places to see.