Fawley

We were gliding through the waters of Southampton all set to anchor at Fawley. My eyes were feasting at the sight by the shores, yachts, boats, steamers with their wind blown sails. The quaint houses by the hills, the clear blue skies. I watched in rapture, my heart missing a beat at the beauty of the settings.

As soon as I stepped into Fawley, I had this strange premonition of having been here before. The long curving roads with the shadows of the huge trees which had leaves that looked freshly painted with green, the ever so beautiful modest homes with flowers in their front yard, colours of which my sight has never set eyes upon, Ive known all this before. As we turned around the corner, looming before us was a cathedral that looked a 100 years old. There were a couple of shops which smelt of fresh books out of the oven. They had hand written notices taped to the windows of the shops informing availability of lodging facility, a puppy for sale , fresh eggs etc .

I have been to this most alluring endearing part of the world a hundred times before, especially in my childhood. Enid Blyton saw to it that I enjoyed my stay every time like i did this time.