When Did The Simpsons Begin To Decline

Post Office - Lark Rise to Candleford

For a few days I've been living with these little beings that occupy our bodies in winter dates and do not feel like that at all ... not even read. A base of tea with lemon and honey, vapors of eucalyptus, onion soup and a lot of care of the people around me ... I have become much better ... until it is just that undesirable nocturnal dry cough that makes my nights are very very interesting.

While I was in these circumstances, foreign to me, since I did not really want to read, I was watching a BBC series that I found by accident ... and to me really liked: "Lark Rise to Candleford". How could it be otherwise ... we're in England in the Oxfordshire area. And what is the show? ... As a Post Office early the early twentieth century, and relations between the inhabitants of two villages, in which not slow to notice, that in spite of many distances, there is not much difference between them ... apart from that one people have greater purchasing power. But ... all their lives have no place in the Post Office, ... in which a card has a value incalcuble, by the news that can hold ... and how ... who are caring for those words, have a duty to be respectful of the contents of each letter, telegram, packet, message ... For without doubt, there is is the confidence of each inhabitant. It's a wonderful series ... I have much more to say .... well ... it's a shame that you can not buy subtitled in English. Only Online.

The series has multiple seasons ... and I'm going for the third time. Without meaning to, you go falling in love with each character and situation in life. I like the stories where it seems that nothing happens, and suddenly it is life itself which is taking part in each of the moments. So ... given to the series ... I discovered something else about it. I saw myself doing research on the author in which it is based: Flora Thompson, and one of his books. It seems that your life has some similarity with the story told in the series.

We can imagine a world in which confidentiality there again? I think the person free of today is a bum or someone who is not connected to social networks, or from within the system (and here I must say that I am part of the system and now .. .. I am bound not want to dispense entirely with him). Recently had a conversation with a person who usually lives on the street ... and I said, I do not know anything about how to survive in an environment where there are not many of the things I call "important" and explained, among other things, how of econcontrarse with someone without "being" with that one ... then I remembered that many years ago when I visited a friend who lives in Cuenca, (and then ... there was no mobile but phones and many booths) told me that the way she was staying with friends through notes that were left in a kind wall. And just this wall, and his friends knew of the existence of such messages. Today I do not think that communicates the same way ... but ... if I could, I would try to continue staying with people through short notes or long, but take longer to see them. I fear for the demise of the boxes and letters. So .... maybe even more I liked this series. With the book I have not yet done, but try to read it one day ... with a dictionary at hand, of course.

Another care I had during these days and have helped to replenish forces have been couple of books ... One of them has given me a very dear friend, and the other my traveling companion , both very welcome. The one I gave my friend, it contains recipes for cakes, scones, sandwiches ... everything for the tea. And with beautiful illustrations. The other book, ... with two words says it all. With all this, how I was going to put good!

By the way ... lemon green tea with honey ... liked me as I take it also in times of improvement. The photos: the first is a shelf at home ... with a cup letter to me recently gave a couple of years, there is another photo of Prince Edward Island and the Post Office which still exists and the time of Maud M. L. and the next where you see a mailbox is a street in Oxford.