A weekend in the country

Last weekend, after one hell of a week at work, I was able to spend the weekend at my parent's home in Bollington, Cheshire. It's the perfect place to get away from the city & relax for a weekend but, ironically, I only ever manage a visit when I have people to see or things to do.

It was rare, then, that I got to spend a weekend there doing as close to nothing as is probably possible. Apart from a birthday lunch for my Granddad, the biggest event in the calendar was the nap I had afterwards. Or maybe the evening spent guessing 'whodunnit' watching Gosford Park.

Sadly, I don't live here.

We also managed a walk before Sunday lunch (a beautiful leg of lamb courtesy of Mother Simon), and wandering through the fields and around the streets of the village I grew up in made me realise how connected I am to it, and that despite all those teenage years of wishing I was somewhere better, cooler, busier, I'm completely in love with the place and am happy I grew up there. I always took for granted the quiet, and the space, and the way in which it's almost impossible for me to feel stressed while I'm there.

...or here

I returned to London relaxed, revitalised and felt ready for anything, and as it proved to be such as effective way of recharging my batteries I've promised myself I'll make more time to spend there. No excuses.

...or here.