Leaving England, weighing up its bewildering mix of the beguiling and the off-putting.
On the beguiling side of the scales: Family. Winding lanes and cobbled alleys. Array of language and nationality. Bridleways and footpaths ubiquitous across fields and fens and fells. Green (a cliché, I know, but still startlingly true). Sheep. Stone cottages and stone walls. Elegant, evocative ruins littering the countryside. Pubs and pub suppers. Villages and village greens.
On the off-putting side: Crowds. Traffic.
So the beguiling seem to outweigh the off-putting.
Except that the crowdedness is overwhelming, a reminder of the original impetus to leave. Simply – seeking space.