a little bit of everything and a whole lot of film

16 Apr 2015

The Warwick Connection

I have been travelling to the UK for work in the past year and I spent last Christmas there as well. You can read bout it (if you want to) here.  Warning: This is an all mush entry. Don't say I didn't warn you.

You know how it feels like when you've fallen in love? That's what I feel about Warwick.

Call me crazy. But I just love it there. I love everything! The scent that permeates the air, soft, clean and mildly sweet. The quiet little towns. The afternoon sun, glossy from an afternoon drizzle. The full English Breakfasts.. ooh  I don't even have the words. Just walking the streets makes me giddy! Never mind the biting cold that made me feel as though I have lost all feeling in my hands...and nose. And the people! Everyone can't be that nice, can they? Was I just lucky that all the people I have met there were truly and completely kind/sweet/hospitable?

I remember walking the streets at 7am - it was still quite dark being the dead of winter -  but the streetlamps bathed everything in an almost ethereal glow.. The glow that only fairy tales and storybooks can describe. I walked from my hotel to the town square which wasn't far at all, just around a bend.

 I remember looking up at this church, with its steeples reaching out to the skies and realized that the lawns by the church were actually peppered with tombstones, aged green and gray by time and rain. There was a very Gothic quality to it. Dark, melancholic, somehow even romantic. I wondered what kinds of lives the departed led. Did they die heroes, lovers, friends, did they die as enemies of  many? Did they die happy?

 I walked further down and wandered around the low, brick buildings near the square. There  were shops, bakeries, pubs, restaurants all around. All empty. All closed. The world, I felt at that very moment, was asleep and I was the only one awake.

I remember seeing some windows with the curtains wide open, invitingly so, offering a glimpse of the warmth and light within, Christmas tree twinkling and all. It was Christmas after all. It was my first time again in six long years spending Christmas in a place that celebrated Christmas as it should be celebrated and I remember feeling ecstatic just because of that fact , despite being all alone.

 I walked and walked. Looking for something I didn't know I lost. There was one house that caught my eye, whitewashed with brown beams. Half Gingerbread, half townhouse, it was perfect. I can already see the cafe/book shop I would so lovingly name Cafe con Libros (yes, shamelessly copied from Desperado's Carolina's bookstore) on the ground floor. Picture how I would design the living area, almost smell all the cookies I would bake in the kitchen, decorate my sons and daughter's rooms. Weaving in and out of my daydreams I started to walk back to the hotel and halfway back, amidst all the shops proudly showing off their wares (2 Jewelry shops, a pawnshop, 4 restaurants, a grave maker and a hotel) was a real estate agent with  picture posts of houses for sale displayed across their window.

I couldn't believe it when I saw it.

The house I was eyeing, the house I was just daydreaming about and almost already claimed as my own (in my dreams yes) was for sale. If that is not a sign from above then I don't know what is.

Now, here I am, back in the sandpit as they call it. Trying to make life happen (failing miserably I must say). Trying, no harm in it now really, to make the 250,000 British Pounds to make that house mine.

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