A Little Bit Country and A Little Bit Rock-n-Roll! - UK

I'm sitting on the train out of London heading up to Milton Keynes. Blue sky, sunny, a little cold but nice.

There's a dude across from me with the side of his head shaved and a pony tail.
He's wearing wild black and white loafers with black and red checkerboard socks. Rock-n-Roll! I love English rockers. It reminds me of the glory days of college and the bleeding edge of punk rock and new wave.

I took a walk to the Chelsea district of London the other morning to find the infamous Kings Road. I was at ground zero for the punk rock movement. I stood looking at the storefront that used to be Malcolm McLaren & Vivienne Westwood's shop called SEX. It soon spawned the Sex Pistols and the rest is history. It's now a vacuum cleaner store or something!

Back out the window, the country side is GREEN. The train beats out a repetitive rhythm matched by the visual repetition of green fields, village, pub, green fields, village, pub. The patterns are interrupted with cool little canals that carve up the countryside. Evenly peppered across the landscape are little canal boat communities of 10 or so boats. The canal boats are long skinny affairs and people actually live on the boats. European's live in smaller spaces than we do but wow, this would be a bit cramped.

I like how England is settled. There isn't the sprawl we have. There are beautiful little villages, closely settled with houses and townhouses check to jowl with a High Street (Business District) full of shops and the inevitable and inviting pub. The edge of town is literally the edge of town. The same is true for a big city like London. When you get to the edge of London (which is 40 square miles!) the city stops abruptly and there's a field with horses. That was an incredible view for my American eyes.

In between the villages are ancient farm houses and country pubs surrounded with a smattering of outbuildings and trees, dirt lanes and gates. Farmers walk the fields in their wellington boots, old men fish the canals and on the lonely country roads, framed by hedgerows, little European cars and tractors wait at crossings as we pass.

After the day's work is done I find myself at a canal side pub with a huge deck out the back. We sit under outdoor patio heaters as the canal recedes into the horizon before us. Just past the deck is a verdant green lawn that leads down to the canal. Trees line the left of the canal and to the right open fields glisten with dew and a hovering layer of mist.

I order Guinea Game Hen. Tastes like chicken...pretty good. I always try to eat the local indigenous species but truth be told I try not to order beef in the UK to avoid Mad Cow disease. (Hopefully my brain doesn't rot when I'm old)

After a couple pints of London Pride my brain rots anyway...but in a good way.

Ta ta for now.

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