I have returned from across the pond with memories and stories and a bag full of souvenirs that was nearly my undoing.

If you think of England , like I do, as a bunny, then I spent the last week traipsing around the northern part of its belly, known as the county of Shropshire (SHIRE means county). Just to the left is Wales, the feet below are Cornwall, and London is to the right. I walked a good portion of Shropshire.

But first, I owe you a correction from my last blog. My friend and host, Andria lives not in Shrewsbury, but in Much Wenlock, a “market town” about an hour further out in the country. Her stone cottage, as are most of the buildings there, is protected as a historic building and while its exterior is original, the interior is newly renovated and is quite modern. The rest of the town retains this same charm, although most buildings still have their original interiors as well. This includes really low ceilings, rabbit warren rooms, uneven floors, and architectural styles ranging from Tudor to Georgian to Victorian and any other royal I left out.

Plus impossibly narrow streets, with tiny cars driving crazy fast, on confusing roundabouts, and on the wrong side of the road. I never got used to this and mostly couldn’t watch out the front window lest I scream and grab the wheel.

My introduction to the week started immediately when Andria picked me up at the airport. We stopped at The Arly Gardens on the way to Much Wenlock. A beautiful example of an old English manor with multiple walled gardens, fountains, a greenhouse, and ancient stable, the estate is now open to the public with a restaurant and souvenir shop. Many of the manors, castles, and other historic sites have been opened in this way to raise the money necessary to maintain them. Many are run by the National Trust or the National Historic Foundation.

Among the many sites I was privileged to experience was The Wenlock Priory, just 200 yds from Andria’s home and my favorite of all the places we saw. It’s an ancient monastery, reduced to piles of stone now, but with a rich and colorful history. Another was the Powis Castle and it’s incredible gardens, Also the fascinating Stokesay Castle, and the ruins of the Roman baths and market in Wrexeter. All of these were rich with the history of England and riveting stories of its people.

We also visited Andria’s brilliant friend Kate, who lives in the Dower House at Morville Manor and saw the stunning garden she created which was the subject of her best-selling book as well.

Walking tours of Shrewsbury, with its castle, churches, and bustling shops, and Much Wenlock, where we hiked to an old windmill and through an “allotment garden” where neighbors grow an array of fruits and vegetables, gave me insight into how the old and new of these towns collide.

I ate bangers and mash, treacle tart, duck a l’orange (turns out Andria is a gourmet chef,) fish and chips, and enough tea to float the QEII.

There is no way to share with you all the wonderful adventures I had or my gratitude to Andria for welcoming me and sharing her home, culture, history and knowledge with me. But the trip did solidify my notion that there is much to see and learn from traveling and I intend to get out there again. The whole world awaits.

Oh, and about the bag of souvenirs. . . I nearly missed my connecting flight home from London, but was saved by a young man from Dallas, who led me, sprinting, through the airport. Let me just say that his sprinting and my sprinting were in no way alike. Mine was more like lumbering, with my heavy shoulder bag and my cumbersome and heavier bag of what-nots dragging me down.

I’m sure he wanted to scream, “Lady, lose the bag!”

“No!” I would have yelled back, “I have homemade English marmalade in here!”

What would I have put on my scones?