I don’t believe in God. That is to say, I don’t believe in the actual, physical existence of a deity who “lives” somewhere up above and who is responsible for all creation.
But let me walk into any sacred space with a painted or tiled ceiling, and I am hooked.
No wonder I spent some time alone in a pew in this little church in the town of Axbridge, in England, just looking up.
It was September of 2005. George Bush was President. Hurricane Katrina had just devastated New Orleans. I had just checked into St. John’s Croft, a Queen Anne era B&B in Winchester, England, and turned on the BBC in my room, where I heard an interview in which Bush claimed to have seen the devastation for himself from a helicopter. “I can see that it is worth more than one day’s attention.” More video of New Orleans under water. Reports of bodies floating in the streets. Mayhem in the Superdome. Read more about A Knight in Winchester
My first real castle, turned out indeed to be a moated grange. Read more about The Moated Grange
Yes. It's only a country road. I have featured it in these pages before. But I stopped the car as soon as I turned into it. Because as far as I was concerned, the light at the end of the road opened into Hobbiton. Read more about Country Road
Just an ordinary bucolic English scene – green fields and woodlands stretching into the distance. “This green and pleasant land,” of Blake’s poem.
There’s little here to mark the spot where William of Normandy overthrew the English King Harold, thereby changing the course of Western Civilization from that time to this. Read more about Visions
The sign said Romney Marsh, so I turned into it. I had a vague memory that Romney Marsh was where Pip encountered Magwitch in the opening scenes of Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens. Google research does not, however, bear this out. Not knowing that yet, I persevered. Read more about The Old Church
A cloud of blue butterflies hovered just beyond the Astra's bonnet. Beyond them rose the famous White Cliffs. This was a day for fresh air and blue skies. No ghosts allowed. The conversation with her mother already sounded like something she's made up. Sophie clicked a picture of the cliffs, locked the car and went to investigate a nearby information kiosk. Read more about Between Cliffs and Channel
A Canterbury Tale Read more about A Canterbury Tale
If I were 20 years younger, and could still walkabout for relatively long stretches, I would walkabout London Town. Because, when I was there about 18 years ago, I looked up suddenly to see that I was crossing Wimpole Street,
Read more about Walkabout London
