as far as i'm concerned, there are few places as beautiful in the south west of london (outside of richmond). how gorgeous is this house? the slow-moving river and the beautiful railings, a conservatory full of camellias which unfortunately don't bloom until february.
i realise, the more i go to these heritage houses and properties that i'm a hopeless romantic at heart. i've surprised myself how much i love the english gardens, how the ivy clings to the brick walls. how i can't help daydreaming about what i must have been like to live in a house like this.
does anyone else have the feeling sometimes that they were born in the wrong country and wrong era?