This weekend we headed “oop North” (how northern Briton’s say “up North”) to Lancashire to visit my other half’s family. He was born and raised in the quaint market village of Chorley. It really is a different pace of life there, and every time I go I can envisage myself buying a cottage and retiring there. But of course, New Zealand still is number on the list for next home destination.
We caught an 8.30am train from London up north, so breakfast snacks were very important. While we were in the northern regions of England we enjoyed the sunshine in the spectacular open spaces and gardens, drank “skinny” coffees covered in chocolate, smacked some golf balls, visited a photography exhibition and checked out the local pubs. Local pubs up north are my favourite spot to sit and watch people. Everyone knows everyone else, and all their business. There’s no secrets in small-village England. Everywhere we went, my other half’s dad proudly introduced us to everyone, with proud high shoulders his son living in London, and then along comes me, the foreign woman none of them can understand. It’s always hilarious and they are all so good natured.
It was a lovely weekend all around, and so nice to get out of the big city to spend time relaxing in the country at a much slower pace, breathing in all that fresh air.