A Short Epistle From Little England

I’m never sure why ‘Little Englander’ is considered an insult. The happiest moments of my life have been those spent in little tucked away corners of dear old England.

I can’t understand the mindset that prizes the faceless, the distant and the looming over the close, the cosy, the human in scale. Only the soulless could prefer a shining steel pillar to a weathered oak trunk.