Since the theme of my last post was the Lake District, I thought I would continue here as a kind of second part. As I write this short introduction to the following set of photos, I have my Lake District map open before me on my desk. Retracing my steps, both for this year’s trip and others we did in the past, feels good.
This weekend the news was in: after four attempts or so, The Lake District has been awarded world heritage status by UNESCO. It joins a list of impressive sites from the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, to the Historic District of Old Quebec in Canada, to Ancient Thebes in Egypt, to Mont-Saint-Michel in France, to an almost never ending list of locations (rightly so), including of course our very own City of Valletta, The Megalithic Temples of Malta and Gozo and Ħal Salfieni Hypogeum.
Dear reader, another week has passed by and to be very frank I had no clue what to write about today. I did some soul (and photo) searching and I found the following set of photos, taken while still living in Guildford. And then it just clicked – I’ve moved back to Malta 3 years almost to the date.
So we finally sit on the most comfortable sofa we can find, I fetch our coffees and you immediately ask me about my trip to the Lake District (because you’re nice like that). Cappuccino for you, an espresso for me. I need it on drip today because I’m almost asleep. Sorry about that.
I wrote the second part of the coffee chat last week, before the shocking news about the Manchester arena terrorist attack, and planned to post it after the weekend. However with all that’s happened, with the many images of desperate parents trying to find out more about their children impressed in my mind, I, like many other bloggers and vloggers, don’t really feel like posting anything. Out of respect for the victims of this horrible tragedy and their families.
Don’t let the lightheartedness of what I wrote in the next post trick you in thinking that we’re OK. Some may argue that life has to go on, and it does, yes. But not knowing who these families are doesn’t excuse us from being insensitive. I wanted to write more on this, however I will leave it at that. At least for the time being.
I think I mentioned this before: apples are not necessarily my favourite fruit. Then, you say, you were living in the wrong places. And you might be right on that one! Michigan is practically apple-mad and so is the UK. For me, apples are meant to be eaten as they are, raw with the skin on if possible. I don’t like cider either, but a trip to the cider mill is always fun.
I am partial though to the apple and pastry combo. I generally don’t believe in rules when it comes to food, but I am particular about this. Apple pie is to be eaten hot with vanilla ice-cream. No custard malarkey business and for goodness sake, no cold pies please!
It’s Sunday morning, almost lunchtime, and I’m in my study. It’s the room where I feel most at home in. The wall to wall bookcases which J built remind me of those beautiful English libraries you can find in some National Trust properties. I don’t like antiques but everything can be a source of inspiration. Thank goodness for this room, because after a little more than a year back in Malta, I still cannot say that this is my home.