|Dining alfresco on a Cornish clifftop|
To say the most, it was a bloody scorcher.
Every minute of every day was glorious sunshine. Even the nights. And so England, we can safely say, actually looks nothing short of resplendent in it's summer shirt, pants , open toed sandals and sunblock.
Everywhere we went was a treat. The group stayed at Lizzie Myers Huntstile Farm on the Quantock ridge, even Bridgwater glinted splendidly on the plains below like a wannabe Oxford with it's gleaming spires of West Street Flats, St Mary's church and the mile long Morrisons depot.
|Eva Kordova,eagerly expecting rain, points to the Atlantic|
Cheddar Gorge cast long afternoon shadows so you could take the shady route down as eagles hovered, goats prepared for satanic rock climbing rituals and potholers discarded their flippers .
Glastonbury Tor shone out like a beacon of poignancy, weighing down the historical graves of Arthur and Guinevere stopping them coming back to rescue us from 11 years of Thatcherism; Wells with it's majestic Gothic Cathedral proving that Jesus would probably not be given a council house should he return to the planet today, happy clever swans pulling strings on moated bells to announce dinner time and the 13th century street scene that is Vicars Close all bathed in sunlight and looked better than the betterest postcards.
Even the evening quiz, sponsored by Bridgwater's answer to Robert Robinson, Mayor Dave
|Czechs and Brits pit their wits against themselves|
A morning in Bude - they went swimming, an afternoon in Marazion - they misjudged the causeway and went swimming, and an evening in St Just staying at the Lands End Hostel saw the group transfer county bases to Cornwall for a couple of days.
St Ives sweltered in the heat, the Eden project invited travellers to even hotter climates and a spectacular sunset at Tintagel rounded off the Kernow sojourn.
|The Bude-iful Cornish coastline|
A Sherman tank bedecked with barnacles marks the point on Slapton sands where the US army training for D-Day fell victim to a German torpedo boat attack in 1944 with some 700 fatalities. Today it looked like any other bejewelled English seaside resort with sparkling blue water, clear blue skies and well, sand and pebbles of various hues.
Exeter is always a welcome stopover with it's Cathedral green and adjacent tables for diners and snackers and then a pleasant drive up the Dorset Downs to Durdle Door , a cliff walk to Lulworth Cove and an evening in a thatched pub, and the sun was still shining.
|North Cornish sunset|
So off to Wiltshire, to complete the Wessex motif . Avebury, a stone circled village with a wifi friendly pub in the middle of it was yet again another English idyll resplendent in it's sunny coat of many lovelinesses. And then Bristol. Still hot. Still sunny. Still there. A bit maritimey. and then,with the aid of avionics, they were off home to the Czech Republic 100% convinced that England was always like this. And perhaps it is.