I can’t help myself but other than most people my favourite subject is Autumn, specifically Autumn in England. I have no logical explanation for this, maybe it has something to do with a how I felt decades ago living in Old Hall in England. Then again, Autumn in this place is equally wonderful and happy.
A few years ago I wrote this poem, Why I love those places. It may also be connected to this feeling of excitement, a gut feeling so to speak as it was then and it is like that again my current mood and I like it. Thinking back after nearly thirty years of those times I was young and free doesn’t make me sad, they are very strong and happy memories.
Many years ago I lived in England for a few years, I am sure I have told you all about it on many occasions. Even though I love my life in Swampyland, the love of my life my wife, and my four children and all the friends I have here, I do long to be there at times.
I think it has to do with all these great memories I have of those good time I had as a young man, being in England, having friends around me there (just as I have them around me here nowadays) and not in the least the British food. Yes, there are times I wish I could just pop over for a pint or a proper English meal.
Yes I know, I am not a keen sharer of petitions because I have the feeling it never helps and I must admit, even this one will probably be of little interest to you but today I must act. I urge you to sign a petition. I just did, wholeheartedly. You see, I am what they call an anglophile, I love England.
The Old Hall in Little Plumstead burnt down on 14 August 2016 and was consequently demolished, they believed it was arson. This story is to remember Old Hall as it was in “the good old days” when I lived there with my friends. I will never forget the good times we had.
The Grey Lady
Old Hall of Little Plumstead has no ghost and it isn’t haunted. At least not on the inside. Well, there is The Grey Lady of course but she is roaming the grounds outside Old Hall: “Near the stables and the duck pond she can be found, crying.” as the story goes.
The history of The Grey Lady was once told to me by a dear friend, Liz, who got it from her mother Susan who, probably, has heard it from her mother as well as it must have originated from sometime during the first half of the 20th century. Well, aren’t most ghost stories?
Last weekend I was in England again after several years. I spent a few days in Cambridge with one of the bests friends I have. The weather was excellent throughout our stay and we had lovely meals in various restaurants. Cambridge, although expensive, is one of the most beautiful cities in England.
Almost the entire city center consists of buildings built over one hundred years and some of them are several hundred years old.
The first evening after we landed at Stansted we decided to have Chili Con Carne in a Tapas restaurant. I noticed a bottle of hot sauce and I thought, how bad can it be and I sprinkled it on my food. Ok, here is a warning: when the bottle says ‘hot sauce‘ it is really hot sauce and you do not put 20 drops of it on your food.
Over the last weeks I haven’t been quite happy for multiple reasons but I won’t bother you with that again. And to those whom I brushed off in the past days, I apologise. I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you and I am sorry.
Yesterday I had my regular infusion so for the next days I will be recuperating and be getting back on my feet. And I need to be a little more happy I think.
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