RANDOMOSITIES

Though the yards around here are teensy-weensy or nonexistent, that doesn't stop the Brits from gardening. Pots of flowers and plants are everywhere.

I now understand why Dorothy and William Wordsworth were such great walkers. The countryside around Grasmere is eye-popping.

Farmer's rock walls make a patchwork quilt out of the countryside.

I want a cow. Or possibly a sheep.

I expected to see more lakes in the Lake District. I mean, come on, it's the Lake District, right?

Hadrian's Wall is still standing. I checked.

I keep telling myself, "You're in England, Michelle." Though I've been here a week, it's still hard to believe this is real.

Man! One stupid wrong turn and you end up in Scotland . . . which was NOT on my itinerary.

TIMELINE

9:30 After breakfast in Kendal, depart for Grasmere, to Dove Cottage, which was William Wordsworth's home for 8 1/2 years.

Noon Leave Wordsworth's house for....wait for it...the Wordsworth House. Yep. Another one. His childhood home.

1-3:00 Hang out in Cockermouth, where we see the larger Wordsworth House and eat yet more fish and chips.

4:00 Look for Hadrian's Wall near Carlisle. Dang. Those Romans did a sweet job.

5:00 Leave for Cornhill-on-Tweed, where we'll stay the night.

Drive around lost until 7:30 p.m.

THOUGHTS

The people we've had interactions with are super friendly and helpful. Oh, occasionally I get a deer-in-the-headlights look, but more often than not, I get the kindly she's-a-ridiculous-American smile. We stopped at an antique store (note: antique as in old, like hundreds of years, not merely fifty) and the shopkeeper was delightful. She recommended us where to eat at our next stop.

Today I learned that Robert de Quincy used to write fan letters to William Wordsworth and even came twice to visit him but then chickened out at the last minute. Finally, Wordsworth invited him and he came . . . and stayed, even buying Wordsworth's Dove Cottage when the Wordsworth family grew too big to live in it anymore. Why the interest in de Quincy? Because he wrote Confessions of an Opium Eater, a book I used as part of my research for my own opium addicted hero, Ethan Goodwin, in A HEART DECEIVED.

A word about credit cards: Americans are apparently behind the times. We freak out pretty much every clerk with our silly little swipe and sign prehistoric plastic. The trend here is chip and pin. Is the U.S. turning into a third-world country?

The sense of history around here still blows me away. Imagine living across the street from a 12th century monastery. What the what? "Oh yeah, just turn left at the monastery where monks once roamed a thousand years ago and you'll see my house on the right." Sheesh.

It's hard to imagine Romans tromping this far north, red capes billowing in the wind. There's honestly not much here besides rolling hills. No wonder they were big into gambling and drinking.

We probably should've gone back the way we came after leaving Hadrian's Wall. We figured we'd just trust the onboard GPS. That was stupid. 60 miles of hair-raising backroads across country. And I do mean across country. We ended up in Scotland for most of the time. Quite the day to be there because it was their voting day to leave or not leave the United Kingdom. Each little village's polling place was open. The result? They voted to stay.