Ye Olde water pump on the village green:
Ye Olde Morris Dancers in the village square complete with rings on their fingers and bells on their toes:
Ye Olde dark thunderclouds hanging threateningly over the cottages and the village pub, leaving the village green strangely deserted on a Satureday afternoon.
Ye yummy fresh bread, baked, surely by the farmers rosy cheeked buxom wife very early this morning.Seems like fiction, but this is really what I saw yesterday. but alas, this morning I turned my back on the old country and let myself be transported back to sunny Italy. My suitcase is unpacked, the cheddar cheese is in the fridge, my daughter is happily clomping around in her new pink crocs and in the words of a certain Dorothy, "there's no place like home..."