We are off to England. We journeyed down through the Lake District and saw some of the most breathtaking villages yet. Everything seems like a park and the winding roads with their picturesque walls, massive trees and sheep manicured hills and dales are a delight. We stopped at Wordsworth's cottage and enjoyed a lovely stroll around the neighbourhood, imagining the natural inspiration for Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Beatriz Potter and of course Wordsworth himself. When we reached our next hostel in Arnside, we were amazed by the Irish Sea (or its estuary) and the long line of beach. Later that night, we met a couple from Kendal who told us why there were signs every few meters and an air-raid horn warning of the tides. Apparently the tide can come in so quickly, you can get sucked down into the sand within moments. In spring, water can roll in from behind you. This last spring, 20 Chinese cockleshell collectors all drowned in one night because the tide came in too quickly for them to escape. Another reminder to us that we must heed local warnings. The other advice we got was to try Kendal cake, which we lost no time in doing, that and a pint at the local pub. Margaret could grow to love England very easily!