Skip to main content

England in Spring



It took me twenty-eight hours to fly from Australia to England...
I was there twelve nights 
then it was twenty-four hours (whooo hooo!) to get back.

That's hardly time enough to get over the jet lag... Is it?



It was a busy, busy, busy 
 whistle-stop* tour to catch up with family 
and wave off my daughter on her African adventure.
Happily we also celebrated a couple of birthdays, mine included.

We started with a day out in Burford, 
a picturesque Cotswold market town 
chosen for some good clothes shopping and a pub lunch.


Cotswold stone cottages in Burford
We had some lovely days out to the Cotswolds and Oxford
and stayed in Bristol, Stratford on Avon, London 
and I even managed to buy a house!
Now that's a story I'm saving for a rainy day...

Here are some of my favourite blue photos from the trip.

Thatched cottages which look good at any time of year, 
look even better when Spring is in the air 
and the daffodils are dancing in the sunlight outside the front door.

Daffodils and thatched cottages, so British!
In Bristol, the Harbour is always so picturesque
With the colourful terrace houses of Redland and 
the brightly painted house boats on the water.

Bristol Docklands with SS Great Britain

My eldest daughter arrived from Australia,
Forty-two hours her trip took her
as her flight was delayed, then eventually cancelled in Dubai!

Still there was no time for her to get over her jet lag,
 we were straight off to London to get her visa for her new job in Africa.



The Liberian Embassy in Fitzroy Square 
is in the basement of an impressive London terrace house
The house next door had a sign saying Virginia Woof lived here!
There is a massive Liberian flag flying
which could be easily mistaken for a US flag on first glance...

The door was propped out with a hand painted sign saying
"be careful, wet paint"
This was oddly reassuring, and in stark contrast to 

when we went to get my other daughter's visa for the US, 
security was so tight in Melbourne, that I stayed outside.
Liberian Embassy flying the national flag
Inside the Embassy at 2pm there was no-one.
Hmmm people are obviously not queuing up to visit Liberia!
My daughter gave in her passport, 
 a letter of support from her organisation, two passport photos, 
One hundred and sixty pounds, 
yes it's not cheap to visit the second most poorest country in the world!
and was told to return the next day...

The next day she collected her passport, easy 
and was now all ready to work
in a remote community in Liberia.

Our family is now spread all over the world.
One in America, one in Liberia, one in England and two in Australia
But next week we will have four of us in New York!!
I'll sing to that!



Linking with thanks to Sally at Blue Monday





Thank you in advance for your comments 
which I love to receive
If you are not on Google+ you can always contact me
via my e-mail link on the sidebar 


  1. * whistle-stop
    adjective
    1. 1.
      very fast and with only brief pauses.
      "a whistle-stop tour of Britain"


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Expat - an A to Z of how not to make friends.

Ok, so I have now officially disgraced myself with the Americans…
A little bit of backstory, I moved to Bangkok eighteen months ago. It was a tricky move coming from the eight times winner of the ‘World’s Most Liveable City’ Melbourne, Australia to one of the most polluted, congested and the world’s hottest capital city… I gave up a meaningful job that I loved, in the Not-for-Profit sector to become a lady of leisure.

I threw myself into life here. I enjoyed the travel and getting to know Bangkok, and we had loads of visitors, but this year everything changed when we moved into our forever place in Bangkok. Hated it, nothing worked, was miserable, so had a great summer traveling the globe visiting family and friends instead.


Back in Bangkok, ready to immerse back into my Thai life, I am moving into a new apartment and ready to make some new friends, I joined a few expat organisations…
I know, I know being an Expat sounds glamorous, we have left the homeland, or in my case homelands, and j…

Bonjour from Paris!

Hello everyone, I'm glad I've caught you.  How is your week going?
We're doing fine, I'm having a lovely time in Paris in the Spring.


I have just finished a pilates class in French! Woo hoo for still being able to find my toes and vaguely keeping up. I managed to carry it off until the end of the class when I thanked the instructor and she said in a loud voice:
'Argh, Vous ĂȘtes Anglais?'
At which point I firmly replied in my very best français:
'Non, Je Suis Australienne'
I mean who the bloody 'ell would admit to being English at the moment? Pardon my French!

This all takes me back to my days living in Belgium when I lived my daily life muddling through, only getting half of was said. 
Nothing has changed. I am here pouring over the French newspapers, it is slightly more fun enjoying the Brexit news in French. However in English or French, it is a sad state of affairs. 
And no, to all my friends back in far off lands, who all ask... I have no idea what is hap…

The Last Rose Of Summer

I spotted this poppet of a pink rose against the crumbling English church wall this week. It reminded me of the song 'The Last Rose of Summer':
'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone. All her lovely companions are faded and gone.' Thomas Moore
Quite how this melancholy song slipped into our normally upbeat,  think 'My old man said follow the van', family singalongs, I don't know.  But since then, I've always looked for my last rose of summer!


The last rose of Summer got me thinking how Winter has well and truly appeared in the United Kingdom. She slipped in unannounced after an endless summer. On the back of the gritter lorries, with witty names like Grittie McVittie, Brad Grit, or Spready Mercury, busy throwing salt to stop roads freezing over. 


Wren's thought for the day: There is a stoic cheerfulness here despite a gloomy outlook in more ways than one... Brexit remains a monumental looming moment in British history but it’s anyone’s guess how t…