At the risk of sounding like a hopeless romantic, I am having a major nostalgia rush here in the UK. Due to relatively mild winter weather (if you ignore a week of snow recently), spring flowers are already sticking their heads up and trees beginning to bud.
Today I have driven through the countryside and seen possibly thousands of snow drops and crocuses, lots of frisky pheasants chasing the lady pheasants and blue tits swirling around our garden in merry mating abandon.
I have driven over the Yorkshire moors and dales, through all the sleepy villages I knew well as a child, and wandered down memory lane at a seaside resort that my ancestors lived in over 150 years ago. Suddenly the Yorkshire Gene running through my DNA was screaming to be heard and attended to.
In an attempt to keep it quiet, we loaded up on Yorkshire food at a farm shop, and I plan to indulge for the last 5 days here.
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