My first couple of days driving alone in England were dismal. At home, I prided myself on my driving. I loved it. Here, I was appalled to find myself toddling along at 45 MPH on main highways between towns. And yet, nobody honked at me. I was totally unaware that I was probably holding up an entire roadway of people who were going to be late to wherever they were going. But I wasn't okay with this. I wasn't in England to add to their stories about American drivers. What to do?
I made for New Forest. I was going there anyway, it having a history with British paganism. And to my delight, it also had a speed limit of 40MPH. Lots of winding road. A teahouse tucked in the woods. Wild ponies. Thatched cottages. And a tree where a bad king was "accidentally" killed. I got to know my car. I got to feel more comfortable driving from the right side. On the left side of the road. By the time the sun was going down, I was ready to hit the big time again and head for Winchester. But that's a post for another day. For now, come for a little practice drive with me.
First we drive by a meadow with what I take to be purple heather. I don't know if this is a "down" or not, but I'm calling it "heather on the downs."
Forty miles an hour gives one plenty of time to admire this green and leafy land.
This charming thatched cottage almost makes me wish I could fake being lost so I would have an excuse to knock on the door. But I fear that's not quite enough to get me invited in for tea.
I had never heard of the New Forest Ponies before I found a group of them blocking the road. I used the time to look them up in my handy guide books, and felt immediately graced by their presence.
Time for tea. Cream tea. And strawberries are in season. In fact, as I was to find out, they were for sale at roadside stands all over southwest England, together with packages of clotted cream.