As we descended back through heavy cumulus into Mancunian airspace we hit dreadful turbulence.I screamed as one does when staring death in the face and the passengers surrounding me in row 26-32 screamed back in fatal recognition of that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller may ever return. And breaking those clouds oh,to be in England and an honour and a privilege to return to her safe bosum : / Home thoughts from abroad: And breaking the clouds Oh, to be in England Now that April’s there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England—now! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray’s edge— That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children’s dower Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! Is the grass always greener in foreign clime or have we all been programmed by holiday-esque Jet 2 matrixes and whelped and whipped into a fervoured vision of paradise that will break us free from life's unenviable drudgery as working class heroes.Sunsets romantic walks down the promenade emerald coloured seas or maybe just a heavy portion of Piehella and slip of the foreign tongue ? In fairness we could readily buy steak ale pie chips and peas on a tray with gravy and half a chicken and chips and full English breakfasts but only in our own quarter.If we ventured outside it reverted back to sardines fish pilchards more fish and tapas.Same with the entertainment as we had Shoe-waddy waddy Bruno and the Rodfather but outside it was just samba rumba line-dancing and more incessant warbling. So without even knowing it is that paradise we all long for on our our own doorsteps awaiting continuous eye.The emphasis throughout that above poem is on the unconscious aspect of nature and our own unconscious enjoyment of it when we are surrounded by it every day and come to take it rather for granted.If we live in the hills we do not delve into its bosum intent on finding our inner self.If you live by the seaside you do not go for walks along the shore every morning.Its escapism pure and simple yet REAL beauty abounds nearer to home. I really missed you England and our next holiday shall be in Blackpool come Easter.Better food better ambience better culture and then money permitting will be Whitby.Weather is not everything as we English folk do not heat up well.If its hot for more than a week then most of us yearn for a drop of rain to break it all up : / Seek and ye shall find.