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   Grasmere is a village in England associated with the Lake Poets, the English Romantic poets who lived in this area at the turn of the nineteenth century. (Grasmere is in the northern county of Cumbria)The three main figures were William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Robert Southey.

   Wordsworth, who lived in Dove Cottage described Grasmere as “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found” and is buried in the churchyard of St. Oswald’s along with his wife and sister Dorothy. If you haven’t read the Lake Poets, you really should; Wordsworth’s The Prelude and Coleridge’s Frost at Midnight are two particularly exquisite pieces of artistry. (image by wikimedia)

BewitchingBritain (formerly known as enchantedengland) isn’t just any old run of the mill photoblog of pretty places. She makes me want to live inside her blog.


   On 17th September I posted an image of Sark Island, a teensy-weeny 2 square mile (5.44 km2) British Channel Island off the southern coast. I liked the image greatly AND it had an excellent story to go along with it but nobody gave it any love no NONE AT ALL and I was terribly saddened. So here is a better image and the story (which is absolutely true) because I have faith in Sark Island! Please do not destroy my faith.

   Sark, pop.600, is the only island which has ever been the target of a one-man invasion. In 1990 an unemployed French nuclear physicist (armed only with his semi-automatic weapon and a head full of mental) disembarked upon Sark, posting helpful signs declaring his intent to take over the island the next day at noon. He then resolutely sat himself upon a bench to await the appointed hour, when tragically he was captured by the local volunteer Constable. 

   This is just so great. Can’t you picture this guy hunkered over on a bench with a thermos of coffee and a wilted sandwich, chewing away, while a bespectacled man (in a grey cardie with a Volunteer Constable badge pinned to it) tentatively approaches and politely asks, “Sorry, but you don’t happen to be the bloke that’s here to capture the island, are you?”

(Oisin Mulvihill flickr)


   This is a local bank in Chester, England. MY bank does not look like this. As in, not the slightest little bit. I am going to print out this photo and show it to the bank manager, because he has some major renovations to do and he needs to get on it. (image JayT47 on


Miss Lily Elsie

Miss Lily Elsie made her name on the opening night of The Merry Widow, in London, on 8th June 1907.  Overnight she had the town at her feet.  On the stage Elsie seemed mysteriously beautiful with her perfect Grecian profile, enormous blue eyes, and hauntingly sad smile.  Tall, cool, and lily-like, she moved with lyrical gestures in a slow-motion grace.
She was a true ‘star’ of Edwardian times, although the word was yet to be used in that context.  Magazines produced special supplements about her, adverts featured her picture.
Although her fame and fortune came entirely from public appearances she was painfully shy.  After just a few years on the stage she retired to a quite life away from the public eye.  She did however leave us with hundreds of pictures, a few gramophone discs, and two films, to remember her by.

(via cargohoo-deactivated20140221)