The Perfects

I was sitting at breakfast in one of these beautiful countryside hotels that you can only find in England. One with wellies boots in the mudroom*, families of five generations staying for a fortnight, and glorious high teas where time seems to stretch and linger.

It was spring, so nature was participating in the idealistic picture, and I thought—beware. This is the moment when the Brits get you. Because there is nothing in the world like a perfect day of spring in the English countryside. 

Is it because you’ve been battered all winter with miserable weather? Mmmm... Not my place to say. 

The room was airy and bright, with high ceilings and windows opened to an explosion of greens so bright that I had to check my lenses. Yes. This was all real.
 

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Places like this are like movie sets. It is important, in such delightful settings, that each participant plays their role, or the whole scene falls apart. There is a tolerated sound level when it comes to conversations, a certain way to salute pe…