Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Out of all the places i've visited whilst living in England, Shilton is one that feels immediately close to home. Yet, that said, it feels more distinctly English than anywhere i've been as well, as this is a funny thing to reconcile. The cottage is cozy, with stone floors and a fireplace, a garden with a stream running through it, and a pub right across the street which always seems to be filled with locals. This weekend was a dear friend's birthday, and in the 24 hours that we were all in Shilton, we crammed in drinks in the pub, a huge feast for 12 around an old creaky wooden dining room table, dancing and marshmallows roasted over a fire, a walk to a 13th century church, scrabble in the garden, a nap on the lawn under a duvet, a picnic in the ruins of a manor home, and croquet. Not too shabby.