This past weekend has been my favorite in Europe so far.
While strolling through a little village called Hartington, I came upon a cozy cottage that I've decided is to be my future home. As if it's not already perfect, the village is surrounded by acres and acres of beautiful countryside.
The next day, I paid a visit to Mr. Darcy at Pemberley (also known as The Chatsworth House). Our eyes met for the first time, and wouldn't you know it, he told me I had bewitched him body and soul. (Must be his only line.) Looks like we're getting hitched, y'all. I told him I'd return to England as soon as possible to work out the details of our countryside wedding.
Less than 24 hours later, I was exploring the wonders of Hogwarts and drinking Butterbeer to calm my excited nerves. You guys, that place is overwhelmingly magical. (But Voldy and his Death Eaters aren't nearly as intimidating as they look. I asked for a photo, and they were surprisingly happy to oblige.)
What would we do in a world without great writers? I owe everything to the imaginative minds of Jane Austen and J. K. Rowling for feeding my soul on a daily basis. But alas, don't we all?