King’s Lynn owes its founding to the River Greta Ouse, and it’s from the river that we get the best views.
Here we stand on the river bank outside of West Lynn, looking over at the town.
The blue sky flecked with wispy clouds overhead and the green grass at our feet makes the scene tranquil and calm.
The buildings reflect in the still water of the river, somehow allowing us to see them more clearly.
It is a bright, charming and restful scene, and it lightens our step as we walk on.
Not far from London, but seeming a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of that modern city life, is this Old Millhouse, somewhere in rural Essex, England.
An interesting setting, it speaks of industry, because this would once have housed a thriving business powered by the never-ending flow of water that could be harnessed to Man’s design. But what once would have been the height of modernity is now a relic of past times, and long gone industry.
The trees have grown and the building weathered, so that is now easy to imagine that the mill is actually part of nature; it has grown into the countryside that surrounds it.
But the river carries on regardless. It is unconcerned with the comings and goings of industry, with the habits of mankind. It continues to meander its way across the countryside, bringing fresh new life wherever it flows.
This image, with its mix of natural and man-made, suites itself particularly well to a formal room, hall or small office environment. Its feeling of history and renewal will provide an uplifting tone to any location.
For centuries the Parish Church has stood at the center of the village, and the heart of the village people.
Generations of families have been welcomed into the world here, have married, raised a family, and finally been laid to rest here.
The walls seep history, and not just the broad sweep of history that affects a whole nation.
Personal histories are told here in the wooden pews and the used hymnals. People have come here to celebrate and to mourn, to rejoice and to cry, to exalt and to lament.
The solid walls of the church have seen it all, known it all, and accepted it all. This is not just a building; it is carries the spirit of generations.
What more attractive sight after a winter walk along the towpath than the traditional British Pub.
The whitewashed walls reflect in the water, and the weeping willow seems to invite us in as it swoops low over the narrow boats moored to the river bank.
Although it is a cool day, the sun shining in the pastel blue sky make it warm enough for us to consider sitting outside to contemplate the British countryside over a pint.
Sometimes we need a reminder that Mankind has been around a long time.
High on the cliffs above Hunstanton in Norfolk, England stand these two buildings.
The builders of St Edmund’s chapel in 1272 must have considered that this was the pinnacle of human achievement, as must the workers who proudly erected a lighthouse in 1844.
Yet today both have become tourist attractions, something for the visitor to admire.
But maybe we can sit a while and contemplate the broad sweep of history, and our place in it.
Jedburgh Abbey, a ruined Augustinian abbey which was founded in the 12th century, is situated in the town of Jedburgh, in the Scottish Borders 10 miles north of the border with England. The town had strategic significance in various disputes between the British races, and the Abbey flourished and decayed many times in its history.
Although noe long abandoned, it still stands as a testament to mans endeavours, and a reminder of their ultimate end.