One of the things that constantly blows my mind about England is its phenomenal history.
I’m from New Zealand, which is 175 years old; this crackling fire stands in the ROYAL STANDARD OF ENGLAND pub, which has existed in varying forms for over 900 years.
Nine. Hundred. Years.
That means the Saxons were getting sozzled here seven centuries before my homeland officially existed. What the what? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that.
We took friends for lunch here last weekend and I totally fell in love with this piece of living history, which survived the Viking Invasion of the Dark Ages, made a living from passing cattle drovers in the Middle Ages, and was frequented by Highwaymen during Elizabethan times.
Then, on a wet Saturday in 2015, hosted a party of eight for a fish and chip lunch.
We walked through the door and literally stepped back in time; dark beams and wooden pews, with dried hops draped from the ceiling and tapestries hanging from the walls.
Isn’t it amazing? If only the walls could talk, can you imagine the tales they could tell?!