When it's cold here, I really miss pubs there.
I rarely feel homesick, but when I do, I think of pubs. On a cold day, perhaps not AS cold as the one above, I can think of nothing I'd rather be doing that sitting in an English pub, drinking Speckled Hen, by the fire, with my dog at my feet (which is OK over there).
The pub pictured is The Hare Arms, mum and dad's local. It is so sweet, very old, has a white picket fence and is known for having peacocks in the garden and delicious home cooked dinners. It also has a resident cat named Roger and a resident ghost, believed to be a landlord from centuries past that took a liking to me when I worked there, and used to play lots of tricks on me, we think because I looked like his wife, or something like that!
When I go home in October I am so looking forward to a beer by the fire, in my favourite spot, right up there behind that bottom window on the right.
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