Thinking of England

As I'm here at my home in Canada, whenever I think of my home in England, I always have a magical image of a particular day Richard and I spent together in Alnmouth, just north of Newcastle. It was the day before we left for the Alps, and we drove up to Alnmouth for a walk on the beach, and a meal at the pub. I had never been there before. And it was absolutely magical. As we walked on the beach, the snow was falling. The sun was setting, and the light reflected on the sand and the sea. We sat on top of a hill, looking down at the water, in what seemed like an endless moment. When we got cold, we stopped in a pub. It was small, and cosy, and so typically English, with low ceilings, wonky door ways, and wooden beams. And it smelt of delicious food. We had a pint of bitter beer and sat close, whilst enjoying the warmth of the fire. I so love this memory.