Now that the sun is out, and the sky is blue, surely there cannot be a better place. I was passing Bury St Edmunds recently and drove past a huge anglo saxon monastery from 1022 or something like that.

Another one, smaller was two miles further on. Endless sweeping meadows, trees hundreds of years old, gently rolling hills, flatness as far as the eye can see.

A sky as broad as the Universe itself. Villages untouched by the wrecking ball of progress. Gently brooks, wide rivers leading to the sea. Forests. Narrow roads, caressed by trees on either side, meeting in the middle of the road overhead.

Birds. Deer. Wonderful people.

Surely there must be someone out there who can put this to music like John Denvers Rocky Mountain High, or Sunshine on my Shoulders. and his glorious music.

Its all there to be proud of.

Not music in a modern style, a wall of noise, but a folk guitar, violins, drums and backing singers, and soft gentle melodies intertwining in songs that celebrate everything that there is. Real live musicians not electric, that has depth, cadence, tributaries, tumbling, pace, and slowness.

Who would live anywhere else.