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My Past & Foundations:
You traipse through Stevenage today a country town and you are greeted with over-crowded streets and questionable youths. However this town's current "declining" (for lack of a better word) state does not dis-credit the importance in terms of the Moseley Family and the Hoare Family along with Knebworth a neighbouring town you can get a glimpse into my family's humble beginnings.
It was interesting seeing the buildings that shaped the youthful Moseley family and were responsible for warmth, protection and the general well being of the older generation. The house that my mother was born in a drab looking place with malt coloured stone work an overgrown weed cluttered front garden a broken pathway to a plain white door adorned with dark windows that are key sized holes into a turbulent past.
And the Hoare home on Pondcroft Rd. that still stands a pleasant house on the busy surburban street. A house belonging to a family so entwined with my own its hard to differentiate anymore. You look at these houses and coupled with pictures from dusty photo albums and tales from the mouths of Aunts and Uncles ghostly images of bygones drift over the now painted canvas, of its earlier and innocent days. Not sure what the fascination is with my family and the past but I am so intrigued by my origins, where people lived, what were the stories of that house what were the good times that happened? Now only alive in memories and the old fortifications.
I suppose this is more of a personal visit to a location rather than a tourist visit, but I feel its important that while I'm in this country, once a home, I not only loose myself in the speed of an abundant culture but also peek into the misty past at what has been. Fully realising that this entry only really enraptures members of my family or strange internet personalities that have a innate interest in me. I suppose I should add that after envisioning the past in front of my eyes we went to a really nice country pub called "Horns".
The thing that amazes me about England or indeed the United Kingdom as a whole is that once-upon-a-time you could navigate your way through the winding roads by the pubs and inns that decorate the place. Each one a local to a surrounding village or even just the surrounding street. Each one throwing up some other aspect of the country's rich untamed past, a past with political intrigue, treason, blood and civil conflict. And the beautiful thing is each pub adds a little more insight into the different ages of Great Britain. Don't be put off by the fact it is a group of locals that frequent the place, as long as you don't spit on their town and order a few drinks merry times will ensue.
Horns in particular was a traditional ale-house, great pub grub on the menu and the table we sat at had the certificate for the execution of King James the First the last King of Scotland and the pretender to the thrown of England. Littered with the ornate signatures of a council of officials all calling for him to be beheaded. Just such an atmosphere these pubs have.
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