Breakfast at Patterdale

The day I was to stroll through history
I awoke for an early start
The prospect of setting foot on Patterdale
Brought sheer joy to my heart.

The wind blew debris across the winding roads
Yellow grasses were topped with frost
With no mobile reception out there
At times I feared we were lost.

Suddenly it appeared off the side of the road
The regal Georgian-style building anew
Patterdale homestead took my breath away
I was back in 1832.

Glover Country mesmerised others as well
Art lovers, history buffs and others did knock
Young and old, bohemians and conservatives
Even a millionaire with a hole in his sock.

The decor inside was so lovingly restored
The craftsmanship was stuff of lore
It made me feel warm all over
Helped by the heating under the floor.

Out in the paddocks following John Glover’s footsteps
To each of his famous landscape views
It was surreal to see so little had changed
Even if the sheep are now making the news.

Patterdale will always inspire me
A scene of beauty in sunshine or rain
Part of it lives inside of me
I yearn to return again.