After Chepstow, we turned inland to visit the famous Tintern Abbey. When I heard the name, it sounded familiar, but I didn't realize why... until I found out that it features in a poem by Wordsworth, which I was forced to read junior year of high school. Though I'm not one to spout poetry, it truly was a beautiful sight, especially on such a bright and sunny day. But first, the car boot sale in the shadow of the abbey. Ahhh. That vaulted and established British tradition. Take one car, stuff it with junk, drive to the nearest racecourse or other suitable field, set up a table, and proffer your wares. I turned up a couple books, a CD by Sarah Vaughan, and many, many cheap DVDs. It was like being in Russia again, but these
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