Keats and the Beach Boys

Never been a big fan of the Beatles. But everyone and his brother seems to love them. Today, I went up to Hampstead Heath, and as I was checking out the Keats House (as in "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" Keats) and Regent's Park, I thought I'd hoof the extra couple of blocks to see the iconic intersection at 3 Abbey Road.

The guide books are right: this is not the place to try to recreate the famous photo! Cars rocket through this intersection like there weren't even zebra stripes there, but sure enough when I got there, there were a half-dozen tourists goose-stepping across the road like John, George, Paul, and Ringo. The people in cars were NOT happy. When I walked by, I said to a small group, "Beach Boys, right?" I wasn't about to try it myself, but...well, look at the picture.



In other news, I hit Hampstead Heath and Regent's Park. HH is one of those wild parks Londoners love, and when you go in, you can almost forget you're in a big-ass city. Regent's, on the other hand, is a meticulously manicured park. There are a buttload of flowers in nearly every direction you look, to the point where it smells like a scented candle shop. (A bit of an overstatement--there are also a great expanse of football and cricket fields, as well as a famous outdoor theater.)



Finally, the Keats House. It's a Georgian house, well-restored, that's really only fit for the true Keats disciple. It's rather barren of furnishings, but has some neat period paintings and some busts of Keats. The gift shop is nice, but the best thing would probably be just to visit Keats' works. Begin with "Ode on a Grecian Urn," move on to "Ode to a Nightengale" and "On Looking at Chapman's Homer," and if you're really ambitious, try out "Hyperion."

He ne'er is crowned / With immortality, who fears to follow / Where airy voices lead.

Doctor Faustus and the Imperial War Museum

For an English teacher, seeing a play at the Globe Theater is like a pilgrimage to Canterbury or Lourdes or something. I had the extreme good fortune to see "Doctor Faustus" by Christopher Marlowe there today, and although I'm familiar with the Faust legend, I had never seen Marlowe's version.

Where to begin? Well, every aspect of the production was astounding. The actors, first of all, were riveting without exception. The men who played Faustus and Mephistopheles had incredible stage presence, but really that could have been said for the entire cast. The costuming was inventive and eye-catching; for example, the point at which F and M are flying over the kingdoms of the world was done with these two pterodactyl-looking props with gigantic wings that were both evocative and macabre.

It's hard to pick out a favorite part, with so much visually to feast my eyes own, but I really enjoyed the part where Mephistopheles introduced Faustus to the Seven Deadly Sins, each one represented by a different actor. ("I...am...WRATH!" Also, Lust was really hot.) The finale was incredible, as well, with the demons of hell coming out of the stage to carry Faustus down to the depths.

I was a groundling, that is, I did not have a seat to the play, but I got in early enough that I was able to secure a place right next to the stage, where one is grave peril of catching stray spittle from the actors, or in my case, food flying off of Gluttony. The good news is, because of the quality of the production, I completely lost track of the fact that the play was 3 hours long, and I had been standing for all of them. Next time I go, on my birthday, I'll be watching "Much Ado About Nothing" from a box seat. Yippee!



Earlier in the day, I hit The Imperial War Museum, also on the south bank, and...well, first of all, The Imperial War Museum? Only in Britain can you get on with a name like that. It focused on Britain's military during the 20th century, and is a playground for the military enthusiast. The main lobby has V-1 and V-2 missiles, Sherman tanks, Sopwith Camels, AA guns, a Polaris missile, and even a civilian rescue boat from Dunkirk. There is also a walkthrough exhibit of a WWI Trench (very cool), a WWII air raid "experience," and plenty of other cool stuff. If you ever hit London, make sure the IWM gets on your itinerary.

The Tate Britain

I haven't been to a museum for a while. To tell you the truth, I thought I was "cultured out" when it came to them. But one biggie I hadn't yet got to was the Tate Britain. Many of my favorite paintings are hanging there, although Dante Rossetti's "Beata Beatrix" was not up, alas. They did have "The Beloved," a work derived from The Song of Solomon and not nearly as eye-catching, however. But I didn't mind at all, because on the same wall were Ophelia by John Everett Millais, The Lady of Shalott by John William Waterhouse, and King Cophetua and the Begger Maid by Burne-Jones.

Pretty awesome. I sat and stared at them for a while, but after a bit, you begin thinking, "Well, now what?" So...I got out my sketch pad, and started sketching Lady of Shalott. Up above is my go at a cartoonish version of it. You can see the Waterhouse in the background.



There were some interesting newer works, too. One that caught my eye was a large work called Top Gun, which was a 5'x10' poster that had the plot and dialogue to the movie of the same name scrawled on it in pencil. One of those, "What's so special about that; anyone could do THAT" items that no one has actually done before, so when I go back to the States and do it with, say, "The Usual Suspects," or "The A-Team."

Finally, here's a picture for Piper, who likes to joke about how great Joseph Stalin is, just to get her parents' goat. It's Peter Peri's "Stalin I."



Stalin is a great guy

City of Perspiring Dreams

Cambridge is located on the Cam River and, with Oxford, has formed one of the bedrocks of Western Civilization for centuries. Men like Isaac Newton and a bunch of other smart people have gone there. It's not as vibrant or visually rewarding as Oxford, in my opinion (although the Cam is way superior to the Thames running through Oxford). Also, the train station is approximately 2,000 miles away from the main colleges...although there is a Wagamama's on the way, so a wash.



Like Oxford, Cambridge is a collection of individual colleges. The most famous, and best-looking, are Trinity and King's College. I couldn't get into Trinity today, which was a shame, because it's said that at noon, the tradition is to run the perimeter of the Trinity quad, not touching the cobblestones, before the 12 dongs of the clock sound. This has been done once by that dude from Chariots of Fire, even though that was filmed somewhere else. A pretty nice place to step off for some cold sparkling water in the harsh heat. (Wasn't it supposed to rain today?)

However, I did get to see the famous entryway to Trinity College. The story goes that in the 19th century, a group of mountain-climbing students, finding themselves in a land with very few things to climb, decided to practice on the gate of Trinity, and as a prank, they stole Henry VIII's scepter and replaced it with a table leg. If you look closely, you can see it.

The two cool things about Cambridge were the students who offered to punt you down the River Cam for 15 pounds a go. Had I the oojah-cum-spif, I would have done it, because the river is by far the prettiest part of the campus. I also made sure to visit the Christopher Wren-designed library of Trinity College, which featured a very cool statue of George Gordon, Lord Byron. Typically, these statues would be in the chapel, where the exalted ex-students' statues go, but because he was such a rake, he was relegated to the library.

[I didn't take the picture. Trinity has an extremely strict no-photography rule in the library, as it has a first folio Shakespeare, and some original letters by Lord Byron...who has exquisite handwriting, by the way.]

Forbidden Planet

When I was back in Indiana, planning this trip, I promised myself that before I left London, I would visit Forbidden Planet, London's biggest and coolest comic book store. It did not disappoint, and was easily 4-6 times the size of any comic book store I've ever been in. The top floor is dedicated to action figures, figurines, t-shirts, posters, collectibles (they had a 1:1 scale model of Boba Fett, worth nearly a thousand pounds) behind glass, and lots of odds and ends ranging from ridiculously expensive to pocket change.

The basement has thousands of comics, graphic novels, regular science fiction novels, manga, patridges in pair trees...but no "Executive Assistant: Iris," unfortunately. The search continues.

I also wanted to see a show on the West End. Well, mission accomplished there, too. Options included "Wicked," that play about Queen, "Priscilla: Queen of the Desert," and a bunch of other things I was neither interested in nor could afford, half-price or otherwise. So...I went to see "Kung Fu Panda 2." It was in 3D, but not nearly as entertaining as the first. It sets up a third movie in the final frames, and was passable amusement. Lacked the spontaneity and energy of the first. I wish the theater had been air-conditioned (I'm used to that as an American), and no doubt I paid way too much for the ticket. Nevertheless, done and done.

Dreaming Spires

Today I went by train to Oxford, which is about an hour and change west of London. It's known as one of the extremely old centers (centres) of learning in the Western world, and tons and tons of smart people have gone there, like Nobel Laureates and President Clinton. It's a vibrant city, too, with many shops and visitors, like a miniature London. (Above: that's me at the Bridge of Sighs. Sigh.)

It's fun to simply walk around, look at the old architecture and narrow streets, dodge out of the way of bicycles, and look for surprises. The city is kind of like an island city--Oxford comes from 'oxen fording.' My favorite parts were the Radcliffe Camera, of course, and if I had gotten in two hours earlier, I could have paid to get into the library itself. Disappointing, because I hear it's magnificent. I was also stunned by the quad in the Bodleian Library. Each discipline of the humanities can be accessed from the quad, if you know your Latin.


I see part of a writer's duty is to pay attention. It's easy to miss stuff if you're not. I was walking away from Radcliffe Camera, looking for the way to the Ashmolean Museum, when Luigi,Mario, a girl carrying a brick box, Lady Gaga, and three men in old school Star Trek uniforms carrying phasers walked by me.

So...I turned around and followed them, expecting something interesting to happen. It did. They were Oxford students at the end of the term, pranking. How did I know? Well, they said they were students, and judging by other students walking around with bottles of Cava, I just surmised. Anyway, they were having their pictures taken in front of Radcliffe Camera, a.k.a. RadCam, until the old lady inside came out and told them to KNOCK IT OFF. They had crossed the restricting line. I thought about booing, but score one for order.


Did not post yesterday, as I was feeling under the weather. I did manage to make it out to Piccadilly Circus, one of the flashier intersections in London, and I did a little shopping for the kiddies at Cool Brittania (a play on Rule, Brittania...get it?) Today I'm feeling better. Thanks again, Cornwall. Oh, who am I kidding? Love ya, anyway. Smell you later.

Honk Honk!

Today was a good day. This morning I rented a car and drove in Britain for the first time. As you may already know, they drive on the left. I am pleased to announce that I did not cause any accidents, hit any pedestrians, or get whatever the British equivalent of the finger is. (Actually, the British equivalent of the finger is the finger, FYI.)


I went to Port Isaac, where they were filming one of my favorite shows, "Doc Martin." One of the streets was closed off due to a scene being shot with the lovely Catherine Catz. It was a very short scene that they kept repeating, and the whole process was taking a long time because of the crowd of gawkers, and the cars that occasionally had to be allowed through. I watched for some time, but there was no sign of Martin Clunes. I am looking forward to seeing Season 5 of "Doc Martin" just for this very short, very special scene.


So here's the dorky picture of me in front of Doc Martin's house. I asked a couple to take my picture, it being a totally tourist thing to do. I asked them to yell "tosser!" at me, and they laughed, but they didn't do it. (Makes sense if you've seen the show.)

I finished the day by driving out to Rough Tor, a story that I will leave off telling here, instead asking you to head over to Jon Nichols's "Strange Horizons," where he'll be putting it up soon (hopefully). I did manage not to have a heart attack, so hooray Bernard!

Trajan's Column and the Flying Finn

Greetings from Old Blighty! Today got off to an interesting start when I was headed for the National Gallery. In Charing Cross Station, a film crew was taking film footage of crowds walking through this one intersection, splitting them up into 4 groups and walking them past the camera. I watched for a little bit, and then I decided to try joining in. I took a couple of passes with one of the groups, and was not detected by anyone. I don’t know what it was for, but there you have it.


At lunch, as I was waiting around for my appointment at the Milestone Hotel (they graciously agreed to give me a tour), a performance artist was doing his thing in Trafalgar Square. He was a Finnish juggler/acrobat, and for part of his show, he did a side-flip over some dude lying on the ground, and I volunteered to hold the chain for him to flip over. I don't like new people, but as a writer it's sort of necessary, I guess.


Finished up today at the Victoria and Albert Museum. I went there because I was in the Kensington area anyway, and I was surprised to learn how honking huge it is. It's got a little of everything: paintings, sculptures, jewelry, costumes, the works. But what I found most impressive was the cast room. Prince Albert knew that a lot of really cool architectural stuff was in far away places, and the average person would never be able to go see them. So he had these to-scale casts made for the peeps who couldn't travel all the miles to see them. This here is Trajan's Column from Rome, standing behind a statue of St. George killing a dragon. Despite the vastness of the room, the column had to be split into two sections. The detailing on it was amazing. I was standing right next to it and I couldn't believe it. I don't believe it now.

I should totally set one of these up for my home town.

Bonus Statue Action! (From the Victoria and Albert Museum)

Another day on the sceptr'd isle, thank you very much, Lilly Grant people. Today's big adventure was to hit the Tower of London, and while it is one of the most touristy, packed, and expensive attractions in London, it really doesn't do not to visit it if you go.



A lot to take in between the architecture and the exhibitions in the White Tower. The Crown Jewels were impressive, but what I will really remember is the gigantic golden cistern, which could hold 144 bottles of wine in it. I wonder how much it weighed. Little chance of anyone sneaking that one out in his pocket. Better just to pick up a crown in the gift shop.

I crossed over the Tower Bridge (London Bridge is actually the nondescript-looking one one down) and walked along the South Bank. I passed the HMS Belfast, took a look at the gift shop of the Globe Theater, and then went through the Tate Museum of Modern Art. I saw Rothko, Jackson Pollock, Picasso, and a bunch of cool-looking stuff I didn't understand, but I was surprised to see Monet's Water Lillies there. But okay.



Tomorrow I have a tour at the Milestone Hotel at 1 Kensington Court, an appointment I set up earlier this year in order to look at a posh hotel I could never stay at, but one Bingo Elkins would stay at as a matter of course. (Of course, he'll never put up Klog at a place like that again!)

Lastly, a hilarious card I saw today. You can find a lot of funny, if coarse, stuff over at moderntoss.com.


Tinkerty-tonk!

Into the Hellfire Caves

I was very excited to be going to West Wycombe today for a number of reasons. The first was to see the cricket match between the P.G. Wodehouse Society (Gold Bats) and the Sherlock Holmes Club. Secondly, it was cricket...can't very well have a Wooster-like protagonist without having seen an afternoon of cricket. Finally, it was the first chance I had to try out my BritRail pass.

It was not meant to be. They cancelled the match, which I would have known had I been checking their website.

Fortunately, West Wycombe is also home to the infamous Hellfire Club. Not the one with the luscious Emma Frost, though, I'm afraid, but the 18th century collection of rakes whose motto was "Friendship and Liberty," and were reputed to have committed all kinds of hedonistic and Satanic acts deep within the caverns. Benjamin Franklin, who said "all cats are gray in the dark," was good friends with one of the key members, a Dashwood dude.

The caves stretch on for about a quarter-mile, and descend the entire way. Unlike American attractions of this ilk, the Britons are not as preoccupied with patron safety; it was quite dark, and owing to the coolness and dampness, the cave floors were quite slick. SPOOKY!

Here are some views:



And at the end...The Inner Temple! Sort of like The Champagne Room of 18th Century England.


In closing, well worth the admission price. And afterwards, you can climb the hundreds of meters up to the abandoned walls and church topping the hill, from where you can see the two Wycombes. Be careful, though, it's a grueling trek, especially if you had previously hiked in from the other Wycombe (not recommended).



And good news! The train people never checked my ticket! I wonder if I can weasel a free day later. And Wagamama's is delicious.

Passenger Action

Meant to hit Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square today, but I got lost and ended up going to the British Museum and the British Library instead. I wanted this shothave because the English textbook I used to use my first year teaching had it on the cover.



I try to live by the advice "Keep Calm and Carry On," but there are other schools of thought:



And I have included this picture just for Piper. She will be the first to tell you that this fellow needs a fig leaf.



Oh, and by the way, if you trip over a sarcophagus in the Ancient Egypt room, guards will yell at you. Speaking of falling, I was late getting home because a bunch of English concert-going numnutzes were crossing the rails by foot, forcing part of the line I needed to be shut down. Nice job, mates.

Also, it rained again today. Harder.

London Punishes!

First of all, London is gigantic.

Secondly, it's a very, very old city, and as such, its street layout is byzantine, making it exceedingly easy to get lost. But nobody wants to hear how I got lost at night in Ilford for two hours on foot. (If I don't lose weight this summer, my body should just stop.)

So...pictures!



I came out of the station, and saw this doohickey a banging away. It was six o'clock. It was next to the statue of Boudicca, possibly the hottest, baddest redhead in history.



The Round Pond. Went there in the pouring rain, so had it pretty much to myself and the swans. (One of them barked at me. Barked!) So, a little work was done on the Lilly Grant today, in the form of questions answered in the first book.

1. Was there a wooden copse for Miss Thammavongsa to rise out of in Kensington Park. Yes. It is reasonable.

2. Would it have been possible for Miss Thammavongsa to drive Bingo's car through the gate? No. Highly unlikely...the entrance to the Broad Walk seemed constructed against just such a possibility, and she would have destroyed the car trying to run over the barrier.

3. Can Bingo Elkins see to the Round Pond from his flat across the street? I am willing to give myself a pass on this one. As the buildings are currently constructed, no, although if I had moved his flat just down the street, you could say he could. I was vague on the exact location. Few of the buildings across the street have balconies, either. But we are dealing with a billionaire here, so maybe he had it fixed!

In other news, I'm familiarizing myself with the London underground and its bus system. A really efficient system, and worthy of emulation. I'm also struck by the diversity of the city. On my way into town, I passed through Sikh Town, India Town, Pakistani Town, and the place I'm staying at is in a neighborhood of Romanians. Pretty cool, and the stores are open late! If I ever come back under budget, I'll be able to get some cheap food there.

Not sure what I'm going to do tomorrow. Might go back out to Kensington Gardens and see it (hopefully) when it isn't a rain-a-thon. I might also bop around Kensington.

Toodle-pip!

C'est Montreal!

I'm on a budget, so here in Montreal, I've chosen to stick around the neighborhood of the motel. So what can be seen in this mostly industrial park?

I saw the Canada Post lockout. Without getting too far into it, they've been doing rolling strikes for 2 weeks, until management decided to lock them out.


I also went to a restaurant called Chez e'pere Gedeon. Apparently it's a Montreal-style Hooters, where the waitresses are supposed to be in bikinis. (I swear I didn't know this going in.) They weren't, but they were in Daisy Dukes. I ordered the Moules et Frites. I didn't know what moules were.


Moules are mussels. Not my thing, but my girlfriend would have liked them a lot. Also a bit more expensive than I had anticipated, but I'm going to give myself a pass, since United is taking care of my dinner.

In a couple of hours, it's off to the P.E. Trudeau airport for a second try at flying to London. That's it for me!

Keep Calm and Carry On

Not in London yet. Not even on the plane to London.

Lying in a Montreal bed watching Family Guy's rendition of Star Wars.

United Airlines was late to my connector flight by an hour. No explanation given.

What I've learned: 1) the Montreal airport is a flipping maze with no piece of cheese at the end, 2)it is approximately 3,000 miles from the US-flights terminal to any-flipping-where else in the airport, 3) there are more stairwells than an MC Escher drawing here. The picture above is what it looked like tonight, only darker.

The guy on the floor-cleaning zamboni almost ran over my luggage

Not much to do out here by the airport.

Merde!

Eve to London

Tomorrow at this time I'll be over the North Atlantic.

Hoping I remember everything I'll need.

Drinking a Smirnoff Ice and watching "The Invention of Lying" with my girlfriend. I've watched five minutes of this film and apparently "not lying" also means "saying whatever pops into your head."

But Ricky Gervais is funny, and Jennifer Garner is attractive. Golly, now I'm doing it.

While I'm on this honesty kick, I'm a little anxious. But excited.

Hoping a bunch of good notes arise from the journey. Toodle-pip!

2 Days Until London

It has nothing to do with London, or writing, for that matter, but the Schadenfreude is at a fevered pitch in the Sell household. Of course, I'm talking about the Miami Heat failing to win a championship (or five, six, seven...) in their first go. The "Welcome Party," "The Decision," the whiny why-does-everyone-hate-us crap, the media trying to outposture each other with regard to the players, the fans, poor Cleveland, anyone who DOESN'T like these guys...I'm glad it's at an end for a while, and I'm glad the Mavericks did what the Bulls couldn't manage to do.

And I don't have to feel like I fled the country on the heels of a Game #7 Heat win.

Or maybe it DOES have something to do with writing. My next villain may flip the script and totally not comprehend why he isn't beloved. He definitely will be more than a match for the hero.

However, I can't afford for the evil Emile Malisov to shrink like a shrinking violet stuck in a shrinking ray in the fourth quarter like a certain King we all know.

Maybe my antagonist will need to have more Wade than LeBron.

3 Days to London

I know that the time for my summer trip abroad is finally on me, because I had my first panic attack last night. Not really sure why I'm getting anxious, because it's only for 6 weeks, and not at all like my last trip overseas...to Iraq. Of course, this time, I won't be armed.

Don't think I'll be finishing my short story, "The Dream of Dr. Robaire," before Wednesday, and I'm not sure I'll be able to finish Michael Crichton's "Timeline" before then, either, but oh, well.

Taking the Kindle. Should prove useful when I'm standing on queue.

5 Days to London

I AM NOT A NUMBER!

I AM A FREE MAN!

If your response to these words is to laugh maniacally, then odds are you are a fan of "The Prisoner," a short-run British television show starring Patrick McGoohan from the late Sixties.

It centers around the travails of Number 6, a British spy who has abruptly resigned, and his minders want to find out why. He wakes up in The Village, a bizarre little village with whereabouts unknown. (Actualy, it's Portmeirion, an eccentric Italianate village built on the western coast of Wales.) Every episode features a new Number 2, whose mission is to crack Number 6. Number 6 schemes to escape each episode, and to avoid being broken. Take the tortured logic of a Star Trek: TOS plot, throw in some moddish British style, and a Cold War mentality, and you have "The Prisoner."

What do I find so great about "The Prisoner"? The patter, delivered with laser-like intensity by Patrick McGoohan. Example:

Woman (in tears): How can you doubt me?
Number 6: It's easy. I'm waterproof, and a little drizzle won't wash away my doubt.

Also:

Number 2 (speaking about Number 6): He can make even the act of putting on his dressing gown appear as a gesture of defiance.

And:

No.2: Well, be seeing you!
No.6: And you.” [Mumbling] “Not for long.”

I decided to stay in Porthmadog the night before I hit Portmeirion (about a 2-mile walk), giving me extra time to explore this strange little place. Hopefully I'll be able to leave the Village when I'm done!

1 Week to London

Time's running out on preparation, and the schedule is starting to firm up a bit. One item that has been added recently is a jaunt to Port Isaac in Cornwall. For those of you who have seen BBC's "Doc Martin," one of the costars of this quirky show is the picturesque Cornish seaside town of Port Isaac, known as Portwenn on the show.

Do what you need to do to see it. Martin Clunes, who played Barmy Fotheringy-Phipps on the old Jeeves and Wooster series and one of the leads on the original BBC production of "Men Behaving Badly," stars as a transplanted bigshot London doctor put back in his Cornish hometown as a GP. Unbeknownst (for a while) to the town, he has developed a case of haemophobia, but that is nothing compared to his abrasive, Dr. House-like bedside manner. The show is peopled with hilarious small-town quirky characters. Some people will complain about the languid pace for a medical procedural, but I think it's charming and totally fitting. You will want to move there!

I'll be hitting it late this month, and supposedly they will still be shooting the latest season of it when I get there. Supposedly townspeople and tourists are often used for extras. I have to admit that would be pretty cool.

Since there are no quick ways to get there from London (the closest I can approach by rail is Bodmin), I decided this morning to RENT A CAR, something I had originally committed to avoid. Bodmin is about 20 miles away by car, and after I've tired of Port Isaac, I can go out to the Bodmin Moors and see what a moor is. Perhaps I can even get a picture of THE BEAST OF BODMIN.

What I've found strange, however, is that that addition to my itinerary was a lot easier to add than another desired location, Portmeirion in Wales, the home of the Italianate villa known to fans of "The Prisoner," but more on that next time.

8 Days to London

Good news! "Ghosty: White Cloud, Blue Mountain" is now available on Smashwords. It's also available on Kindle.

The best part about Smashwords is that it's so versatile. Want to read it with a Kindle? Check. How 'bout an iPod? Check. A Nook? Can do. Kobo? Android? Got all of 'dose. Want to read it off your computer? They can accommodate that, too.

Been working on editing Maniac Tuba, my first book from 2000. Not exactly high literature, and not at all saleable, but part of the historical record.

Setting the itinerary for London, too. I have a small red notebook with all my info in it, a blank page for each day over there. I have 15 days with the BritRail pass, so I'm trying to schedule day trips to make use of all that. Should include Portmeiron, Oxford and Cambridge, Beachy Head, Canterbury, Hampton Court, and a cricket match at West Wycomb. There's also the big trip to Oban, Scotland, and Staffa Isle, which leaves about 5 days of train availability, so I'm thinking maybe I'll try to fit in Port Isaac in Cornwall, Tintern Abbey in Wales, and possibly the Lake Country or Dartmoor. Hard to say.

Tick tock!