It's really a very special church. It's not too bad to describe it with ruins and broken walls. It feels like the war and the wind in the North Sea have left only the ruined city and a gate behind. After entering the door, there were graves all around. It was a little scary to see on cloudy day. Although the British weddings and funerals were all carried out in churches, the cold wind of St. Andrews Church, though still full of the splendor of 600 years ago, still made people feel a little frustrated. When it comes to English literature, there are many literary masters who have really been born in the north wind of Scotland. To paraphrase a recent red and numb saying, why are most classics still tragic when they are alive with tears?