A common refrain within the writing community, one of those things we should (I dislike that word) do on a regular basis, is refill the creative well. How one goes about that can be as varied as the people reading this blog post. Everything from a walk in the park, to in-depth research at the public library, to a long journey in foreign climes.
With just such a goal in mind (along with visiting good friends), I embarked on an adventure from which I’ve recently returned. Three weeks in England! How the time flew!
Week one was spent in London. We rented a tiny flat to save on food costs. Calling it a one-bedroom flat was rather optimistic as the “bedroom” was a loft area reached by a ladder and in which anyone over 3 feet tall couldn’t stand upright. Good thing we’re still fairly nimble! But the location near our favourite bakery and close to a tube station could not be beat.
We strolled through Covent Garden, bought a few books in various bookstores, road a boat up the Thames to Hampton Court Palace, visited Kew Gardens, explored Highgate Cemetery, and enjoyed a chamber music concert followed by a delicious lunch of authentic steak frites, nom nom nom.
We greatly enjoyed a day in Bath – the setting for so many Regency romances, to say nothing of the source of inspiration for Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, and many others. But also, a city steeped in Roman history.
We spent week two in York, again choosing to rent a flat, this one a studio in a former cocoa factory. Situated on the River Foss and just inside the city walls, we were able to walk to the town centre within 10 minutes. Another area steeped in ancient history all the way back to the age of the Vikings. We strolled atop the wall, explored The Shambles, were entertained at the Jorvik Centre, wandered in awe within the walls of York Minster, and were spooked by a ghost walk.
Also treated to a lively display of Morris Dancing.
And then the real adventure began as we embarked on our five-day hike along the Herriot Way through the picturesque Yorkshire Dales. Every little town or village quainter than the last, friendly, helpful and interesting people, comfortable B&Bs with delightful (and quirky) hosts, and delicious food. A full-English to begin the day, and a pub at the end. And sheep. Lots and lots of sheep. The walking wasn’t easy, and my feet were sore, but the grassy fields separated by walls or hedgerows, the lazily flowing rivers and streams, the mysterious woodlands, and the abundance of interesting wildlife made the blister on my big toe well worth it.
Would I do it again? Heck, yeah!
Was my creative well filled? Overflowing.
