We have been on the road in England, squeezing down narrow lanes, flying up the M6, loving hedgerows and villages and cathedrals, liking the 21st century less.
There have been moments when it’s felt like a movie trope. The pub in Exford, lovely seventeenth century bar, almost more dogs than people, fell quiet for a few beats when we walked in.
You can do well as a dog in England. There is ice cream made especially for you.
