This weekend, I had a super eventful day. On Sunday, my roommates and I hopped on a bus and, in the span of eleven hours, we saw three of the United Kingdom's most popular tourist attractions: Windsor, Stonehenge, and Bath. It was a lot.
Windsor was beautiful and terrifically, epically, monumentally cold. When our coach pulled up, the rain was coming down in sheets around the castle on the hill. The slick cobblestones glistened under our rainboots as we traipsed around the prestigious royal stomping grounds. I bought a black wool beret. I also fed some very hungry swans. It was all very good fun.
Next stop was Stonehenge, aka the most mysterious rock formation on this side of the hemisphere. It goes without saying that I was most excited for this bit of the trip. When the coach pulled around a hill and the stones came into view for the first, I will openly admit I got a little misty-eyed. It was even colder in the wide open field where the stones stand, but the perplexing nature of the formation and the none-the-wiser sheep grazing feet away made it magical.
The last stop on the expedition was Bath. Since the sun sets so inexplicably early, it was dark by the time we rolled in. We had just enough time to explore the abbey, walked the Royal Mile, and grab Cornish pasties. They were delicious.
All in all, it was a solid, jam-packed day. I only hit my head while napping on the bus twice.
