There were abbeys and castles,
cream teas and Scottish pasties,
daunting “full English” breakfasts.
The history and grandeur of the Roman Baths,
and the serenades of street musicians
at every turn in lovely Bath Spa.
The long climb to the awe inspiring castle
that looms over Edinburgh.
Shiny red double-decker buses
and crushing crowds of tourists.
A memorable boat ride down the Thames to Greenwich.
Othello at the re-imagined Globe.
A poignant visit to Stratford,
whose paths I walked as a student long ago.
Those paths now the stuff of pedestrian malls,
interactive presentations, and souvenir shops.
Shakespeare’s memory is alive and well,
but both Stratford and I have changed in fifty years.
The memories I will cling to
revolve around the towns of the Cotswolds.
For me, the quintessential England lives on
in the Cotswold stone of the cottages, the clusters of flowers.
and the sweet scent of lavender
that perfumes the crystal clear stream
that gently meanders through Bourton on the Water.