Nowadays, the residents of the small fishing village no longer have to rely solely on fishing for a living, and when they first see the sandbar and the moored ships in the harbor, they think of the sad stories of hundreds of years ago, and this poignant melody rings in their ears.

Walking on the mottled stone slabs of the wharf at the entrance of the village, my fingertips have touched the rusty yellow-green moss wall that has gone through many years and wind and moon, and looked at the monument engraved on the city wall about fishermen who went out to sea to fish and died in the storm, found a gap in the wall and leaned out for a while, looked at the ships moored outside the port, and then looked back at this quiet village, and traveled into the legend of the village in a trance.

To the left of the stone steps above the port is an old cylindrical lime kiln, and the first house with a portico further to the left has the odd name "Crazy Kate's Cottage". The cottage is named after Kate Lyall, who died in 1736.

Kate's husband, a fisherman, can be seen fishing in the bay from the second-story window in the cottage. One day, in the midst of a stormy weather, she witnessed her husband drowning in front of her eyes. This horrific scene caused Kate to have a nervous breakdown, and she was insane until the day she died, when she put on her wedding dress and walked into the sea and into the grave of her husband.

The story is poignant, but it is also a magnificent and faithful love – a major reason why I love old houses – not only do I love the natural stones, the clay walls and the vines or roses that cling to the walls, but I also love the rustic charm or fairy tale atmosphere of the moss-covered brick roof or brown thatched roof.

What's even more fascinating is the generations and their stories that lived in these old houses, and sometimes I fantasize that living in these old houses can take me back to those old times?

Stepping here is a truly isolated village that has hardly been touched or changed by modern civilization. There is only one main street in the whole village that runs a few hundred meters from the port to the mountains. A steep, narrow path paved with cobbles built against the mountain. Because the path is too narrow and steep, there are no cars or motorcycles or even bicycles in the village, there are cute donkeys and cargo sleds.

Today, the cute little donkeys are still inseparable companions of the villagers, and in addition to being used as a means of transportation, children can also travel back in time and ride donkeys through the small villages paved with cobblestone paths to explore.

Most of the old stone-built houses along the roadside are painted white or a faint goose yellow, dotted with windowsills, eaves, and porches painted blue, black, red, and yellow, and two or three brick-red chimneys stand on the mottled gray-tiled roofs.

On a sunny day, looking down from the hill through the white houses on the side of the street: the blue and green of the sea and the blue of the sky are like watercolors splashed on the canvas, different shades of blue and green flow and mix together, and the white watercolor is thrown or splashed on the canvas and becomes clouds.

The pace of walking along the cobblestone path is extremely slow, like a visitor who has lived in the desert before, watching curiously at the elaborate or casual decorations, furnishings and small courtyards of each hut.

Looking at the green plants growing in the pair of small rain boots, seeing the owner smiling proudly, he planted it in a new way to bring new life to this pair of worn-out rain boots.

After a stroll around, grab a table in the Cottage Tea Rooms in the heart of the village overlooking the sea, look out at the beautiful Bideford bay and the small village dotted with flowers like oil paintings, and sit down for a cup of traditional Devonshire Cream Tea.

Cut half of the store's homemade scones, spread them with thick clotted cream and jam, and put them in your mouth, and the thick cream slowly melts in your mouth, and the soft and sweet flavor of the jam is paired with the sweetness and sourness of the jam, and the scones that are still warm after the oven are so enjoyable and happy.

When I went out for a walk, I found that although it was only a place with a very low population density in the countryside, I could often see garbage cans and eye-catching red dog pots.

The night before Garbage Collection Day, you will see all kinds of garbage placed in front of every house in the town - there are large black thick garbage bags, and there are green and black buckets of various sizes.

Thinking of the garbage classification in full swing in China, I heard that according to British law, residents must sort garbage before it will be collected by the government, and if they do not follow the requirements of garbage classification, they will be fined. Large black plastic bags contain garbage that has no recycling value, such as thin plastic packaging bags, toilet paper, etc.

The remaining waste is mainly divided into food scraps, glass, canned cans, paper and plastics, which need to be packed in different bins provided by the government for recycling and reuse.

When I saw many people seriously tearing off the transparent rubber strips on a bunch of express cartons one by one and recycling the cartons, when I saw my mother-in-law tearing off the thin plastic on the transparent plastic boxes bought in the supermarket and recycling the plastic boxes......

People here are very willing to spend time and energy on sorting and recycling, and have long regarded garbage sorting as a habit in their daily life like brushing their teeth and washing their faces.

Finding fish and chips is simply a daily must-have for the British, and even use them to entertain the country's leaders.

According to the British, the country's economic power, divided by geographical location, is getting richer from north to south, and this can also be felt in the taste of fish and chips everywhere. Fish and chips in northern Scotland are more oily, mainly because locals are reluctant to use too much vegetable oil for frying, instead using the more readily available tallow.

In the more affluent areas of southern England, the fish and chips are basically fried in vegetable oil and have a relatively light taste. Due to the frequent eating, the number of obese people in Scotland has been higher than that in England for many years, which has also made British health organizations continue to call on people in the north to eat lighter.

But it's not that Scots can't afford to buy fish and chips fried in vegetable oil, but that they can't quit the local tastes left by their ancestors.

In the UK, fish and chips are a national dish, and for fish and chips, it can be said to be a dark dish, after all, for us who are used to cooking food, the simple and crude production method can only be understood as cooking the food, not cooking in the real sense.

But from another point of view, the fish and chips still retain the taste of deep-sea cod very authentically, like a half-cooked steak, when the sea breeze shiveres, have a fish and chip, squeeze some lemon to make the fish taste more delicious and unforgettable.