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29 Jul 2011 14 Comments
I used to live in England when I was 12 and 13 years old. I lived in a small village called Leicester Forest East, which is in Leicestershire. I loved living there. Full of history and falling down castles, it was an ideal place for a dreamy girl to live. I was always expecting a knight in shining armour to come galloping out of the mist at any moment. There was a little, tumble down castle nearby. I used to climb over the stile, cross the train tracks and go down this little footpath and wander the grounds. I’m sure I was trespassing and breaking about 12 different laws but it was lovely.
Also on the footpath was a huge tree that had fallen into a field. One day, I wandered down there and climbed out onto the tree, with a book, possibly an apple, and sat down to read. There were horses in the field and I’d raise my eyes from the book from time to time to watch them. Several had foals with them, gamboling about in the grass. It was magical. The foals would let me pet them, although once in a while, one would kick me. Even though they’re small, those little hooves hurt. A lot.
It rained there, often. It didn’t pour, the way it does here, but it was a constant drizzle. Misty. Drippy. Wet. I loved it. I still love rainy days, even now. It sends me right back there.
One time, I went with my dad to a meeting he had. Most people have meetings in offices or maybe at a restaurant, but this meeting was at a castle. Ashby de la Zouch.
From a tourism site….I forgot to get the web address & now I can’t find it. D’oh!
While my father was at his meeting, I wandered the grounds of the castle. It was misty but the sun was trying to peek thru and I fully expected that King Arthur was going to come striding across the grounds at any moment. It was fantastic.
We lived in a semi-detached house. It was tiny but cozy. We had a little back garden and a postage stamp front garden but the roses that grew there were incredible. My mother did nothing to them but they bloomed these big, blowsy drifts of flowers and smelled heavenly. Our milk was delivered by a horse-drawn cart and around the corner was a sweet shop and a bakery where we’d buy bread every other day. My mother had a couple of string shopping bags and would go to the market a few times a week because we had the tiniest fridge in the world. I’m sure it wasn’t fun for her but I loved going with her. It was such an adventure and so different from the antiseptic American supermarkets.
We were close to Bosworth Field, where Richard III was killed and close to Bradgate Hall, which was the home of Lady Jane Grey. Both of these places, along with the book The Daughter of Time, which I read over there, started my long love affair with English history.
From the BBC website.
I saw so much there and loved it so, so much. This is where, for me, the green grass grows. Possibly because it was the last time I can remember my parents being happy together but mostly because I was just so happy there myself. My school was awesome, I had friends for the first time in ages, I could sing in a chorus and the fact that I was odd and loved reading and geeking out over history was not considered unusual at all. It was admired. I developed an English accent almost over night that persists to this day, at least in my head.
I miss it.
This is part of the Indie Ink writing challenge. My challenge was from Christina Bosco at everybody’s got a blog.
14 Comments (+add yours?)
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Jul 29, 2011 @ 01:40:18
What a wonderful place for a young girl to grow up, dreaming of knights and castles.
Jul 29, 2011 @ 01:44:31
It was wonderful.
Jul 29, 2011 @ 02:43:43
Major, I’m enjoying the mind pictures of rural England; I’m a big fan of knights and chivalry and the countryside they roamed; I enjoyed your post.
Jul 30, 2011 @ 20:47:12
thanks. I’m a fan too.
Jul 29, 2011 @ 02:52:49
What an experience for someone that age – I can tell in my interactions with you that it shaped you being able to live abroad in your formative years. Thank you for sharing your memories.
Jul 29, 2011 @ 04:29:34
Wow – sounds like such a magical time. Nicely written
Jul 29, 2011 @ 18:24:12
I can smell the roses and feel the soft grass.
Magic.
Jul 30, 2011 @ 20:35:46
What a wonderful place for a child to experience. I adore history, and I am fascinated with English history – just finished some great books on King Arthur, so this little Kiwi/Aussie is jealous as hell.
Jul 30, 2011 @ 20:36:29
p.s.
I thought that this was great – you really captured the time and the place.
Jul 30, 2011 @ 20:47:58
Thanks so much for all the nice comments.
Aug 01, 2011 @ 19:44:45
That is so amazing. What a great opportunity.
When I was little, I somehow ended up reading mainly British books and after I started to understand that, for a long time I wanted to move there. For some reason, things just seemed to make sense there. Whereas the places I was living…didn’t make sense.
Aug 01, 2011 @ 23:33:58
When I was about that age I went from India to America. Always magical experiences.
Aug 05, 2011 @ 06:37:43
You paint a wonderful picture with your pen that you may as well be holding a brush. There are strokes of brilliance here!
I know it’s a real telling of memories; but it’s done so effortlessly and takes me as ‘the reader’ to those places in your childhood, it’s almost like I’m the friend you didn’t mention who was right there with you experiencing the same thing.
Lovely writing!