Escape

Yesterday afternoon, the loneliness birds came and started laying stone eggs in my heart... His Travel Romance was at his sister's wedding in Adelaide, and I was here alone, and will be until tomorrow afternoon when he arrives back home, having spent the entire Easter break away. I try to act chipper about it most of the time, but having finished cleaning the house, and having run out of social engagements for the weekend, (and having had someone drop oily pasta on my brand new, expensive, soft beige leather boots that I was wearing only for the second time since picking them up off of lay-bye, which has upset me greatly) it has hit me a little...

To add to it, early this morning strong winds were blowing things against our house, and I couldn't sleep because my imagination suggested that each and every noise could be someone trying to get in, and I waited, with breath held, to see if the noise persisted or became smashing glass or a rattling door knob. It never did. There was always just a different noise which I had to listen out for anew. It seems that the score is 1-0 for Imagination Vs Logic - but then again, Imagination did have the 'it's dark outside' advantage.

I don't like being alone. I don't like my imagination turning on me. To escape, I have decided I will go to Ashridge Estate in Hertfordshire, England.

Photo by Geoff Spivey

If not literally, then at least I know my imagination is most certainly up to the task of getting me there to run through autumnal leaves and frolic in fields of Bluebells...

Photo by Welltaken

Ashridge Estate was shown to me by Dog-Eared, and is now most certainly on my 'to do' list for when I get to the UK.

Photo by Steve Shipman

Really, could you imagine a more beautiful spot for a picnic?