A autumn jaunt through the endless grounds of Blenheim palace is quite possibly the easy way to become a socialist sympathizer (Observing Dickens-like factory waifs in the grimy streets of London coming a strong second).
However, it's all mind-bogglingly beautiful, so you quickly forget all those serious person thoughts and just start enjoying the sounds of the ducks splashing in the lake and the crunchy rustle of fallen leaves and the way the golden air falls on path.
...And the way all your sentences start to sound like something Wordsworth wrote after a quick visit to Coleridge's seedy opium cabin.
After a while, you start running out of adjectives for "fall on your knees majesty" and start overheating your digital camera's memory card.
The Lakeside Walk is probably the most pleasant way to spend a spare hour. Even if you have to spend that hour walking behind an Italian couple practicing selective cannibalism on each other's faces.
The Rose Garden is one of the most peaceful places in the parks and if you're lucky and very quiet, a cute English couple will appear and have an informative chat about the different varieties and history of roses.
There's also the least secret "Secret Garden" in history.
If I can find it, you have a problem.
It's hard not to imagine Lancelot "Capability" Brown dressed up as a used car salesmen touring around with the first Duke of Marlborough saying: "Cascades? We got cascades!"
"Very, very manly statuary that is not in the least bit homoerotic? Got that too!"
"Things for tourists to throw their loose change into? For sure."
Every corner you turn in Blenheim leads you to something gorgeous and sometimes unexpected.
Like Blenheim's first and last failed attempt at a stone canoe.
Or semi-clad people holding up fountains or waiting for
1 comment:
were the quacking ducks related to any of the evil ones in victoria?
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