And to witness so many students out on the streets of London and across the UK last week in protest at climate change and the way in which generations before them have effectively destroyed their future was, well, a joy.
All in Travel
And to witness so many students out on the streets of London and across the UK last week in protest at climate change and the way in which generations before them have effectively destroyed their future was, well, a joy.
We moved from social club to cafe to our final destination on the number 88A bus and met a raft of kindness and smiling faces.
Six miles of watching the skies, admiring houses we will never be able to afford and noticing people we don’t really want to meet. Time wasting yet strangely uplifting.
The vicar without dog collar was not the only local who took some time out of their day to make us feel very welcome and we both reacted positively. A great reference for a small town surviving, one feels, on a steady stream of visitors looking to take in a little history with their tea and cake.
It suddenly feels very modern and on trend to pass judgement and declare our moral outrage
But today it was rather different. The crowds of tourists were missing and, rather bizarrely, it became more a case of parakeet watching than anything else.
Winter in a southern English town. Centuries old houses with wood-smoking chimneys and visible breath on their doorsteps.
What is this life for, if not to sit on the top of a mountain and marvel at the setting sun?
It really is as romantic and enchanting as the guidebooks say, and also staggering in as much as there are breath-catching buildings literally around every corner. It is full of history, character and charm and houses some of the greatest and most important artistic treasures in the world.
Even that old bastion of English grumpiness, the security guards on the main entrance, were engaging and funny on our visit.
We sat under the trees after hours on our feet, tired, thirsty and just a little irritable, as naïve tourists have a habit of being in warm countries.
Walk the streets more often. That would be my advice to anyone wanting to open their eyes and to see beneath the surface of their normal, everyday world.
Imagine this.
Walking along a gravel covered path, narrow, winding, thick vegetation on all sides.
Madrid. A city of sunshine and colour. Of art and culture. Of people and cars and noise and life.
The posts on the blog will tell you that there were good times. But I also tried to share some of the challenging moments and use the writing process to try to help me understand what was happening and why.
Real life. A view into someone's world, full of colour and character and intrigue