A proper English village (that would have Dickens purring in his grave), with a proper English pub - overlooking a gently flowing river, licked by weeping willows, and glided upon by mute swans...a pot of Hedera helix on the windowsill, a glass of mead and a plate of chips on the table, a Northumberland/Durham/Lancashire clog dancer by my side ;-)> and the homely timbre of an English flute or concertina in my ear...

And as for my abode (although I'm mostly vegan, these days)...

Poem cum Song/Chant 101 of 230: JUST SUBSIST

(TUNE:

D F# G G A A G G
D A B B A A G G
D B B B A A G G
D A A A B A G G
D A A A B A G G)

At times when I've had time to take,
    I've thought of a plot by a lake:
The plot would be of fertile ground;
    The lake would have some trout around.

The plot's house would be made of brick -
    Well insulated, in good nick.
And, round this abode, there'd be built -
    Solar panels, kept at best tilt.

Inside large coops would run the legs
    Of chooks and quails - for fresh eggs.
A vine for grapes plus summer shade;
    And, in thin beds, vegetables laid.

Up at dawn, to use all sunlight -
    Fish and farm by day, read at night.
A spouse with me I'd not resist -
    In retirement, we'd just subsist.

From http://walkaboutsverse.sitegoz.com (e-scroll)
Or http://blogs.myspace.com/walkaboutsverse (e-book)

How about you?...