we went to a wedding in the yorkshire dales this weekend. i’d never been, and omfg it is gorgeous. like, beautiful in the way i dreamt of when i read “all creatures great and small” as a kid (fitting, as james herriot was writing about yorkshire). and no, i clearly never watched “emmerdale”, either.

i’ve never been particularly enamoured of the english countryside except in a drive-by-on-the-motorway-oh-wow-look-at-the-sheep-and-pasture kind of way. i know that rolling green hills and quaint thatched roofs is what everyone thinks of when they think of pastoral england, but most of the countryside i’ve seen has been of the home counties – and it has never really appealled.

but something about the dales just struck me. had me daydreaming about living out in the sticks in an old stone house and going for brisk rambles with a dog by my side. (working remotely from a london job, natch.) how could you not?

the sad reality is that my marriage simply could not survive rural living – i would get bored, drive jonno insane, and then he’d have to kill me.

but a girl can dream…

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