There’s the old song about counting the flowers that grow in an English garden, leaning on the idyllic image of the old, low cottage with roses around the door, a pocket sized lawn, the air lightly scented by the herbs from the kitchen garden. All resting beneath the shade of nearby trees. Such places do exist, true you have to hunt them out a little, some survive in a welcome anonymity while others are famous the world over. Dove Cottage, home of the Wordsworth’s is one. Nestled in by a hillside and a busy road it still has an aura of peace nestled over it.