My very first trip to England, I managed to drive up to the Lake District. It was April and gorgeous. I didn’t understand what all this fuss about rainy England was about. I had clear skies the entire trip. Maybe that’s why I have always looked on England so favorably. It was good from the start.
I saw fields of yellow as I made my way north after a gorgeous stay in London. Even picking up my manual rental car in London that I had to shift with the “wrong” hand couldn’t sullen my mood. (Manual shift cars are standard in Europe unless you specify automatic–there were many Americans at the rental desk that Sunday morning arguing the point when they discovered they had not reserved an automatic)
The first time I saw Grasmere I was in love. I got a tiny room at a lodge on the outskirts of town. It meant a leisurely stroll along the fields to go to dinner in the village. It was lambing season, and all the new born lambs were skipping and playing in the fields. They were already marked with a bit of bright paint, I assume to identify their owner. But as far as they were concerned, the world was theirs.
I must admit, I was a bit put off when I went to the restaurant in the village with a lovely view of the fields of lambs. Of course, I should have guessed it was a mainstay on the menu that night. Spring lamb. A little too close for comfort. I ordered the fish.