There comes a moment in one's life when one feels a need to return back to their childhood for something they may have skipped over. I hurried through mine and probably missed loads of those normal fairytale moments, and galavanting outings, but recently I was given an opportunity to...recollect. An opportunity in my magical country to trot into the mysterious nature to simply... discover.
My friend Catherine and her partner Bertrand with baby Mathilde came over from Toulouse for a family visit in the east midlands. Newark, in Nottinghamshire, not far from Nottingham and the legendary Sherwood forest. Catherine, being a great lover of music and instruments, connected with some genuinely charming french friends (who make the best galettes this far west of Brittany) for a gig during the weekend, in the forest itself. I gladly joined in.
The evening was spent relishing Gypsy Jazz in a brilliant dome in a hidden corner of the forest, enigmatic and slightly less trodden on. The magic began.
As well as the dancing with the fairies.
And a few merry men.
There was even a pork roast.
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| Robin Hood, Men in Tights |
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| Antoine lusting after the sushi, Bertrand, like me, eyeing in queasy fascination |
After the sunrise, and after a debate on breakfast sushi (I settled happily on my trusted pickle and cheese sandwich), a good wandering about was in order.
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| Where's my english breakfast? |
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| The lovely lady who owns this 'Robin Hood' inspired mansion also attended our indie festival Fit for a king, indeed |
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| Obviously for the king's horses |
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| Into the clearing |
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| Much of the deforestation has been for sugar beet fields |
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| Alan-a-Dale, the Robin Hood narrator |
Julien, having brought his guitar, when we found the river, settled into his muse. His soothing chords brought pixie dust swirling before our eyes.
Click here for Robin Hood history
Imagination and genius are still drawn here, in this serene setting of fairytale history.
As Catherine kept telling me, 'this is an area of Sherwood forest the tourists do not usually see,' I could easily picture the galloping horses and carriages down the paths. The armoured knights were shooting arrows, and the witches hiding inside hollow trees.
A visitor center with archery games and maid marion keychains wasn't necessary to appreciate the birthplace of countless years of real stories.
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| Markers inscribed with 'Robin Hood' directions |
Only a few weeks back at home, and already I appreciate my country in another mystic yet lucid light.
Before this year, Robin Hood and his merry men were just another cartoon, or a parody with charming british accents. Now I smile secretively, remembering the real bewitching potential within the forest.
Oh yes, I felt it. You could too.
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