Remembering.....

How can it have been a year already since we were in England? And am I just going to get more and more weird about time flying? I seem to be asking questions like this way the heck too often. Signs of aging? Naaaaah.
So, an insurance/magazine saleswoman stopped by the house today. Yes. Stopped by. Now, I'm not sure when the last time was that someone came to YOUR door selling something besides Girl Scout cookies, but for me, well it's been a long time. And, it's pretty surprising when you live in a 'gated community' (yes, we are--but that's a story for another time) way out in the boonies, like we do. My Dad assures me that farm magazines have been sold this way forever. That lady could talk. I talk a lot, but she talked circles around me. I gave her a cup of tea. Her mother was English (from Lincolnshire) and we talked about England and lots of other things. AND I did NOT NOT NOT buy anything from her or convert to her brand of religious affiliation or anything else. I shook her hand and thanked her for the free Grit Magazine and sent her on her merry way so I could make scalloped potatoes.
However, I did not need her to remind me of England, oh no. Eleanor and I have been thinking about it all week. The wedding, the wedding festival, the dancing, the red heads, the freckles, the garden, the pasties, the Cornish Coast, the thatched roofs, the cute cottage names, the music and poetry, the amazing people, the cream and jam, the acting, Stonehenge, the road trip, the accents, the double-decker bus, the rock walls and hedges... Ohhhhh when can we go back to England, mama?