A Visit To Hever Castle.

Seven years ago, my husband and I made the decision to take our children overseas to meet their English grandfather, dying of cancer. Financially- as the ten-week trip meant a hefty bank loan- it may have been an unwise decision. But when I think of all our trip's priceless memories- especially times spent with my children's beloved grandfather, a man whose regular letters and never forgotten birthday cards always made us aware of his great love- the trip has never been regretted.

Our decision to travel to England - a journey entailing careful planning from start to finish -may have come about the worst of reasons. Knowing that my husband's father time was fast drawing to a close heightened our awareness of the fragility of life, edging much of our time abroad with sadness, making us hold tight every treasured moment. But we also decided that if we were going to go 'overseas' we might as well make it a holiday to remember for the rest of our lives. And to be utterly truthful, this trip meant a great deal to me. As a young girl - like so many young Australians- one of my dreams was to travel the world. During this trip I planned not only to see as much of Great Britain as time allowed, but also Italy and Greece.

One of the places I wanted to see in England was Hever Castle. In my novel, I often imagined Sir Thomas Wyatt, the Elder, my main character, standing, walking, running with Hever Castle as his backdrop, or living and loving within the Castle's confines. But living in Australia, I was forced to see Hever Castle through the writings of other writers. I so wanted to see it for myself. Smell its air, walk its grounds, go up and down Hever Castle's narrow, spiral staircase as I listened to the sound of my foot steps crunch and echo within the castle's stone walls. So my husband and I parked our three children with some unsuspecting relation, and travelled along the many winding roads to Kent.

I remember my first thought on seeing Hever Castle: it's so small! Not an original thought, I must admit, because Hever Castle, for a castle, is very, very tiny. But its size takes not one bit away from its actual beauty.

My novel's character describes Hever Castle as 'enchanting.' Seeing Hever Castle with lush, green grass spread out before it, and fronting the blue skies of an English summer, I could only agree. (By the way, I can never remember it ever raining in England, but our time in Scotland - well, that's another story!)

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