Sometimes places mark you for life – not because of where they are but because of the ties someone you know has to them. The English countryside is at once peculiar and charming – at last after a long drive from London I had settled into a little nest. We had come to Whalley to visit my grandparents-in-law and I was reminded of fragile life could be. At this point they are both in their nineties, little and frail, but still going about their days independently. Their expressions and mannerisms told the stories they had lived in former lives, maybe in other cities or even other countries. Lancashire cheese became a daily occurrence over the week we were there and I was becoming accustomed to the countryside way of life.
There is something reassuring about belonging to a little town – stepping out the door no longer becomes a personal statement about one’s fashion sense or a social status – we forget our past and remember to simply be.
The dream that is Whalley.
Quaint little independent shops line the main city centre. Slick men’s fashion and stylish watches are easily found at one of the corner shops.
Walking into the distance, my father-in-law and grandfather-in-law.
Mid-week we drove from the grandparents’ house to the most peaceful rural setting with views overlooking green pastures. My grandfather-in-law could barely make it to the bottom of the hill, although he made it far enough to take a couple of pictures with the family.
Hoping you’ll get to visit,
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