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As with France my travelling to England dates way back to my Highschool years. My very first travel was also my first on a plane. I was 18 years old and my parents thought it was a good idea to brush up on my English grades by sending me to an English school at Cambridge for the Easter holidays.
For the two weeks I lived with Mrs. Shopping and a Japanese girl. Needlessly to say that I went exactly three times to that English class at the Cambridge University. What sense does it make to sit all day long at a language laboratory surrounded by Germans talking German and the oh so important "Peter, Paul and Mary go shopping" lessons that do not hold anything promising to learn for the real life.
Nope, my adventurous soul let me travel on my own - noone around to scold or observe me. One day I simply went to the train station and took the train to London. Sight-seeing galore. Or I watched football (my first encounter with ManU) discussing the advantages and disadvantages of the single players with Mrs. Shopping. That gave me a lot more English lesson than the school would ever have.
I also had to flee a Pub since an underaged girl was accompanying me, drinking beer when the police came in to control the age. Thank god for back entrances. ;-)
Scotland and England also seem to drag me into wedding parties every time I travel the countryside. I have no clue why but it happens constantly.
My first car-driven travel, somewhat at least, was during my first trip to Scotland in 2002. I took the ferry to Kingston-upon-Hull and when I saw the sign Scarborough, I skipped the motorway and drove the entire coastal road up to Scotland including some interesting detours on B roads.
Let me first go through my notes and all the adventures will be up on this page shortly, okay, somewhen in this century. There is a wedding at Exeter at a hotel I got dragged into by the very Scottish father of the bride with whom I shared farmer tips & tricks. The Dutch tourists who fed the wild ponies at the Dartmoor which in return almost climbed into their car (that was a sight for sore eyes).
The tenor at Covent Garden who desperately wanted to speak German with me. The nice people at Bath who tried to help me find my hotel without success and when I called I was actually standing in the parking lot right below.
Stonehenge!!! Did I mention Stonehenge? Stonhenge at which I arrived by pure accident on summer solistice while wondering what was going on: tons of police, VW buses with peace signs from the sixties, crazy folks and a crazy night and only one McDonalds near. Just the right people to spend some time with.
And the lovely clergy at Salisbury Cathedral, who, despite me being somewhat more into the more natural belief systems, showed me everything, including an exhibition of photographs of the Cologne Cathedral that they had going on at that time. The world is sometimes a very small place. ;-)