And oft when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood – they flash upon that inward eye,
Which is a bliss of solitude.
And then my heart with pleasure sings….
And Dances with the Daffodils!!
What better way to begin writing about the English Countryside, than quote the master, Wordsworth, who was supremely inspired by the belt of Daffodils when he was out on a walk with his sister. Having had enough of the humdrum of London, I thought it was time to explore the intensely scenic British country-side for a few days. I picked up a small group tour which was exclusive and personalized for 10 participants only. Our first stop was Cambridge, and while the brooks and ridges I had mostly read about, came to life in front of me – I could not resist the temptation of thinking of the picture of an unmarried Rajiv Gandhi and a young and coy Sonia Gandhi standing somewhere in this locale, which I had chanced upon several years ago. A look at the Kings Cross School was a must as it is where every British lad hopes to get one day, and overall after a couple of hours we headed up North towards York. York I think is meant to be explored on foot, as it can get cold and windy, and you enjoy a brisk walk through the interesting lanes and alleys with double storied buildings on both sides. Particularly interesting was a visit to the Shambles Lane, where the road and the houses looked like they were just about holding together. Incidentally, York is infamous for being England’s most haunted city, and we discovered that the hard way. Later that night the hotel the bell desk advised us to stay indoors in our room at night as Roman ghosts visited the corridors and lawns of the hotel quite often. That ensured we stayed put in our rooms and the lights did not go off as well.
Next, we headed further up North, and soon enough we were at the Hadrian Wall. It was no ordinary wall, as it had been built by the Roman emperor Hadrian in 122 AD. The wall stood to protect the British against the original inhabitants of Scotland. Sitting next to the ruins of the wall was quite an experience, as visions of roman army legions came to mind, but it was time to head towards the current border. The new gateway is really interesting, as it is basically nothing more than a stone which reads Scotland on one side (as you go into Scotland) and England on the other. Some kilt factories, flea markets and miles of picturesque scenery later we reached Edinburgh – our venue for the next couple of days.
Edinburgh was a revelation with the Edinburgh Castle, breweries, high street shopping, and of course stories of JK Rowling. It was inspiring to see the bakery where she had scripted her initial editions of Harry Potter, that too on paper napkins – as she was too poor to be a full time writer. The castle visit was wonderful, as was the tour to a whiskey factory, and the unusual experience of the haggis dinner we had one of the nights. Edinburgh is good for night life and has some of the best city centre views as well.
We did leave the city and headed for the lake district – richly endowed with sparkling lakes, lush grasslands, sheep farms and pristine beauty. We stopped by Ullswater where Wordsworth had written his famous poem, and actually saw some yellow Daffodils in full bloom. Later a visit to his cottage, and the ambling around the area left us with little doubt about the inspiration this setting could have on the mind.
Our next stop was to be Chester. Chester is a sweet little town encircled by a near intact red brick wall almost 2000 years ago. Another landmark sight, near the east gate, is a clock commemorating Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897. Otherwise Chester is a clubby, peppy town, with reminiscences of the Beetle culture, and somehow you feel it is still caught in a slight time warp.
The next couple of days were to explore more countryside and Wales till we reached Stafford upon Avon, the town where Shakespeare grew up. A visit to Shakespeare’s house was a must, and it was humbling to note that one was actually standing on the ground he stood, and seeing where he had penned some of his most famous plays. The cottage was small, and beautifully adorned with creepers, and being there was almost like witnessing history. He obviously did not have too much wealth, but talent and creativity was never meant to be trapped in the shackles of money.
That was all I could absorb, and what had started off as a dash to Scotland, turned out to be a treasure-chest of memories to live with.
