Finale

Overall vacation rating:

8.2

Date posted 9/3/04

Return -- in which we Do a Greeley

Jane's Journal Page Notes:

Short day, no journal.

Journal entry:
OK, we’re in the Red Carpet Club at Heathrow. We had no real problems getting here.

Ate our usual breakfast at the Harlingford, and then checked out pretty much immediately. Walked to Russell Square tube and got right on a train to Heathrow with absolutely no hassle. There was even a "conductor" by the tracks from whom we could have gotten information had we needed it. But we didn't, because we are experts! Hah.

The only little issue was Sparky losing control of the small bag he was "driving" as we rode the escalator up from the train here at the airport. Sparky and I both got stopped at the ticketing window at United, so we had to have our checked bags X-rayed. Come to think of it, it may have been Beast whose passport stopped. They do share the same name after all. Maybe it’s that trip he took to China (which would also explain mine--that and Russia).

Otherwise a pretty easy trip so far--although I’m sure Beast might not use the word "easy" in discussing the movement of our luggage. We did have to walk all the way across the terminal to get to the United window. It seemed like we went past every other airline in the world. Oh, well. It’s just walking. FLAT walking, too!

I just went and got a small glass of iced rum to mix with my leftover warm Pepsi. I love Red Carpet Clubs. This one has bucketloads of food too. Unfortunately, because I simply can't drink anymore, now I'm hot and sweaty just like Beast! Me from hot flashes brought on by alcohol (about a jigger's worth, mind you!), him from dragging 40 lbs. of dirty clothes and souvenirs across the terminal (see above).

We’ve all decided we are looking forward to:

1. showers at the proper height and w/ more space
2. our own beds
3. not tripping over each other every time we move

I’m also looking forward to (in no real order):

1. seeing all our photos -- The Beast took most of 'em
2. our more normal (for us) diet
3. different clothes
4. air-conditioning and/or FANS!
5. work, a little
6. catching up on blogs
7. looking over all our souvenirs

More when we get on the plane; I’m too frazzled now.

LATER

We hit the security jackpot on this leg of the trip: all of us had to be searched before boarding the plane. Because they picked so many people for security checks, we were the last--the VERY last--people to get on the plane. Once we reached the actual table to have our bags searched, they barely looked in my purse or Sparky's carry-on, but they completely took apart the carry-on and computer bag Beast was in charge of. Probably because he was really annoyed, and showing it, at having to do this. It was annoying. In front of us in this line was a father and daughter (about 8 years old) who also had everything taken apart. And she had to go and relinquish something she had packed, too. The whole security rigmarole made the flight over 15 minutes late leaving.

I know I know, it's for our own good, and I understand all that. But it was so inequitable. The airline staff was freaking out at how backed up they'd gotten. Amazing. Frustrating. There just has to be a better way...

But we obviously made it on the plane. We have about two hours left of our flight at this point.

Here's a philosophical question for you: Why does the trip home always seem longer? Doesn't matter where you've been. A two-hour drive seems like a year when you're headed home. It doesn't help that on this flight there are six movies available to us, not one of which holds even the slightest interest for me. I tried watching "Jersey Girl"--ick.

So I'm back to listening to music while I stare at the interactive map of the plane traveling across the North Atlantic and Greenland. We just made landfall on the coast of Canada. The channel I'm listening to has some good (or at least amusing) songs that I’d like to get hold of:

Extraordinary -- Liz Phair
It’s a Small World -- Baha Men
Book of Love -- Peter Gabriel *
Hey Mama -- Black Eyed Peas
The Shrek 2 soundtrack
Try a Little Tenderness -- The Commitments

Some good oldies too: "Love is a Battlefield," "Jessie’s Girl," "A Hard Day’s Night," "Soul Man," "Pinball Wizard," "Light My Fire," and several Cole Porter songs from "De-Lovely."

I tried to sleep and couldn't; neither could Sparky. We'll be totally wiped out tonight when we get home. We should arrive around 5:00 giving us enough time to sort laundry and maybe start a load, eat the pizza we intend to order on the drive home, and SHOWER!!!!

In which we find that A. Rocks

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
A True Story...

As I stand upon this untouched paradise and see,
The deer and the dolphin living their prayer of supreme serenity
I think, who would upon this place dare bring, a wretched bloated
industrial thing. And may I add once you have been in nature’s
total purity, then you have stood and seen all that is true in sanity.

Journal entry:
Today we actually set an alarm so we could all have a shower before breakfast. Somehow, that meant we got down to breakfast earlier than usual. We were done eating by 9:00 and out of the hotel soon after, on our way back to the British Museum via Russell Square station where we bought today’s tube passes. While we were there, we also asked about the price of getting to Heathrow and were told another day pass would do it. So we have tentatively decided not to call the nice taxi man, and are focusing on braving the subway instead.

At the museum, we let Sparky talk us into seeing the 3D mummy film. I really was afraid it would be lame, but it was actually really good. The staff has been able to use an MRI on one of the hundreds of unwrapped mummies in their collection. This movie has several views of those MRI findings, and pretty good 3D FX. The movie is probably about forty minutes long, after which we shopped in the little attached souvenir place. I bought a set of canopic jar-style salt and pepper shakers to add to my collection, earning an eye-roll from Beast.

Then we had to head to to Tottenham Court tube station--just to vary things a bit--and went to Temple to meet A., weblog friend. A side benefit of this is that I now know how to use the phones, which are much more sensible that U.S. pay phones in that they show you how much you’ve put in and show you how much more you’ll need to connect. Duh! It’s actually a little weird that there are so many phone booths around, since EVERYONE has a cell phone (apparently) in Europe! Me on land-line, calling A. on cell to tell her we're here. Thank God we didn't have to go find her; we'd've been totally lost for sure!

This meeting someone you "know" but haven’t met is very surreal . When I called A., she said to just stay put and she’d walk over and meet us. Every woman who passed us in the next five minutes got the curious eyeball from us. Not that there were a lot of women. Which was another interesting side-note. A. came down from Middle Temple and then walked us back through the Inns and kind of the area around which she works. We tried peeking into Middle Temple, but the security guy would only let us peek into the Hall very quickly because "people are eating." As A. told me outside, because that particular guard didn’t get the promotion he’d expected last month he's quite cranky and unwilling to bend ANY rules. Gossip--so good for the soul!

We ate at a lovely restaurant (underdressed again....sigh)--Cafe Gerard I think--where we had French-ish food. Honestly, I enjoyed my conversation with A. so much that I can’t even remember what I ate! (shocking) Unfortunately, Sparky and Beast got into a massive tussle while A. and I chatted. It was awfully distracting, and probably should have mortified me, but I was too interested in what we were talking about. She’s quite impressive and sensible and rather intimidating. Not exactly what I was expecting, but at the same time exactly what I expected. Odd.

After our long lunch, we took our leave so she could get back to work. She directed us to the Chancery Lane tube stop before heading back. We went to Hyde Park. I wanted to show Sparky (and Beast) Speaker’s Corner, but there was no one haranguing. As Beast said,, mid-afternoon on a Tuesday is probably not a good day to drum up much of an audience.

The good news is that it was a perfect day to stroll thru the park, and there were just enough people to make it look used but not crowded. Frisbies, deck chairs, ice cream...perfect, and huge. We spent about an hour wandering before getting to the other side of the park and tubing back to Russell Square. We couldn’t remember if there were lots of stairs. That’s where we’d depart to Heathrow--a short four-block walk from the hotel--but thought of carrying our bags up or down three or more flights wasn’t too appealing. Turns out there’s only a flight of about six stairs and an elevator, so we bought our passes for tomorrow. We are committed now: no taxi.

Came "home," had a long set-to over Sparky’s lunchtime behavior and attitudinal issues in general, got some--actually, most -- of our packing sorted out, including souvenirs, and then it was dinnertime.

For the first time during the entire trip, we broke our unspoken rule and repeated ourselves at a restaurant. We ate at Mable’s again. It was MUCH more crowded, and the TV wasn‘t showing The Magnificent Seven. We were in a back corner, near several after-work drinks groups. Still good food and respectable atmosphere.

Back to the Harlingford, where our room has become impossibly stuffy, and the neighborhood annoyingly noisy. It’s Tuesday: why all the partying?? There are a lot of college-age people outside tonight talking and laughing, along with the occasional inebriate trying to cuss others out. Maybe all their rooms are stuffy too. So we have spent a lot of time hanging out the window watching "our" pay phone: on the corner. There has been one girl on it for over an hour. It’s rarely NOT in use.

In the process of trying for some cooler air, we discovered we can see in a flat on the corner across Mabledon from us: it's a soap opera, and these people need curtains. I’m not sure if they don't know we can see in from the hotel window, or don't care, but about the only thing we haven't watched them doing is going to the bathroom.

Anyway. It's dark entirely now, so perhaps things will settle. I don't care much--I have earplugs. ha ha I’ll sleep regardless!

While we continue to try to cool off and get some air moving in here (there is a small fan, without which I’m sure we'd all be dead by now!), I wanted to mention several Tube Experiences over the past few days, and this seems a good place and time to do it:

• Sunday is shopping day for residents of London. The trains were VERY crowded around tea-time as we headed back to our hotel. We were jammed in with lots of people with shopping bags, one of whom is a (temporary, I think) expat American from Columbus, Ohio. I chatted with her briefly; she loves living in London, doesn’t want to move back home, and seems quite cosmopolitan and fun.
• On one of our many trips through King's Cross, we stumbled, literally, on a girl with a suitcase at least as big as she was, and probably weighing more than she does. She was trying to get it down the stairs with it. Beast took pity on her and carried it down all the stairs. She turned out to be catching the same train as we were, so he helped her get everything loaded when the we boarded. Turns out she's Polish. She was on her way back home after some time spent here visiting friends. [Friends who couldn't see her off??] Her travel plan was to get through the Chunnel and then take a bus home. To Poland. My very cynical side says: "Cripes, it’s a good thing you're sweet and pretty; lots of men will help you with this bag. Next time, pack lighter!!" But she was quite nice and friendly and trusting. Beast ended up carrying her bag up all the stairs at the other end of the train ride, as well.
• Rowdy teenage boys are the same in every country. On one train we were on, one in which there were just enough seats for Sparky and me to sit, but not Beast, about six 15-year-olds boarded the train the stop after us. They were obnoxiously loud and slightly terrifying in the way that boys can be without really meaning to be. You could see all the women in the car shift slightly. I watched them, thinking idly that Sparky will be that age soon and what a shame it will be when women are afraid of him because of his size and gender. Glanced at Beast and almost burst into laughter: he had put on his Terminator sunglasses and folded his arms at our end of the train car. One of the puppi...er, boys flopped down the aisle toward him--without really seeing him--and started motioning his pals to come by him where there was a lot more space. He couldn’t get them to move. I’m busting a gut trying not to laugh. Eventually he turned, took one look at Terminator Man, and skipped back to his friends, who exited at the next stop. Heh
• On Monday, we boarded a train that had just come from the Temple. I found a seat but there were no others empty. I ended up in a seat across from an attractive guy in his late twenties in a good quality suit, with the tie removed, his shirt cuffs loosened and the suit coat across his briefcase on his lap. Exhausted and dozing, damp with perspiration. It was a hot day and he was totally wiped out. Rough day in court, obviously. My primary reaction: cute guy, probably not so cute when he’s not asleep. But right then, very sweet.

I love public transportation, especially in England, where people are polite. I know there are probably drunk around, but we weren't on the tube after about six most nights, so we didn’t see any (ANY!) rude behavior. Amazing.

In which we Ride Under and Over the City

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
Bridge to a Higher Place...

Imagine yourself a bridge...
Maybe a bamboo bridge
Swinging in the Amazon...
Maybe an old stone bridge
Green with hanging moss

Those who need your wisdom
And your kindness
Move across your back
Into the all embracing realm
Of the powers above
Where unfound lands of love lie
for all to break in
Like a mother’s open arms.

Journal entry:
Unfortunately, it was noisy overnight--a drunk outside at 2:15, plus noisy, slamming hotel doors. I, in earplugs, heard very little of it, although the slamming doors did get my attention at times.

Up around 8:00 for breakfast today, though we didn't get downstairs till around 8:45. After eating we came back up to the room so Beast could check email before we met up with K., a colleague of his. He has worked with her for quite awhile, but has not met her before today. Things seemed to be set for the meet-up, so we set off for King’s Cross.

On our way, we stopped in at the British Library--it's right next to St. Pancras. We had barely enough time to examine most of their manuscript collection before walking over for tube tickets at King's Cross. But what we did see is amazing. Truly amazing. There is no other word for all the works on display there, from Bibles to Asian prints to another Magna Carta to Charles Dickens' notebooks.

The line for train tickets was insane; we're too chicken to use the machines, which would undoubtedly be much faster. It probably took twenty minutes to get our tickets. On top of that, we didn't realize how long a walk it is from the tube stop to the London Eye, so we were another twenty minutes late meeting K. This is probably not the best place to search for one person: very crowded down at the bottom! But Beast eventually hooked up with her. She had already bought tix for the Eye, so we got right on board after. No waiting there at all.

I wasn't sure how we would fare with this, but it turned out to be very cool; even Beast enjoyed it. It was a fairly clear day so we could see into the distance. The building we wondered about yesterday is too new to show up on the maps, but K. told us it’s called The Gherkin by many people. Heh.

The maps provided (well, actually, Jean provided ours; they do cost money!) are not all that great. I wonder if the guidebook is better. We didn't buy one to see. The cars weren’t particularly crowded, so we could really walk around while we were moving. Nice.

Aside from the view, it was interesting to watch procedure. As each car emptied, the security detail walked through with mirrors on sticks--think dental instruments for giants--to check the car for bombs. Quick, calm, professional...and none of them more than 22 years old. Great job for a college student IF s/he likes people!

After the ride, she took us to The People's Palace at the Royal Festival Hall for lunch--v. posh. Nice food. The Company picked it up. Once again we were severely underdressed, but no one seemed to care. It wasn't busy. Probably had something to do with the jackhammers in the construction site below us that started up around 2:15 and went nonstop till we left. The maitre d' was incredibly apologetic.

After lunch, we split up, after taking a photo so Beast can prove he met K. to all the people at work. K. went shopping, while we went off to see St. Paul's. We got there around 3:45, so we didn't get to spend very much time looking around since they start closing up at 4:30. We did get to go up to the Whispering Gallery, although it was so crowded that we couldn't get the acoustics to work. It was about 230 steps up that far, so we didn’t go upstairs to the dome (another 300+ steps). Because while we may be walking a lot more than usual, and we've been doing the hill thing, we aren't in THAT good of shape. While we were up there, the choir suddenly began singing: absolutely heavenly.

We wandered as much as we could after coming back downstairs, but the staff was locking up the aisles and transepts and settling everything for Evensong. We went down to the crypt to use the bathrooms and to shop. Also had a quick tea (cookies and Coke--not very British!) and then we tubed back to the British Library bookshop. We hadn't had time to look around there this morning. We dropped a lot of money there...and I didn't light any candles, which I'm kind of bummed about.

Woops: as I’m writing this we are watching the evening news in our room. They’ve just done a big bit on the service thing Jesse is doing this week--Soul in the City. No Jesse to be seen, just a lot of cute girls (wonder why he’s doing it...). Very cool! It’s a cleanup project for Christians to come together and improve depressed areas of the city.

Anyway, after the British Library bookshop, we staggered back here to rest before heading to dinner. Prob. another pub.

LATER

Yes another pub, altho' I only had chips with cheese and bacon on top. Too tired and warm too eat. We ate outside in lovely cool breezes, though. This was the place we tried to eat at on our the first afternoon in London, but the cook had gone on break between lunch and dinner. It was OK food, but the atmosphere was the best. I’ve forgotten the name, but it’s down Leigh St., so off the main traffic area, behind the University of London dorms on Mabledon. Much quieter.

We sat next to a table of Spaniards dissecting the world. A very different accent from the Spanish I’m used to listening to. I actually had trouble understanding them.

We got back here around 8 for showers and so forth. Now we’re lounging around reading the paper and some of the books we bought today. That’s what the adults are doing: Sparky is (gasp!) GameBoying.

Tomorrow we meet with A. for lunch, but otherwise I’m not sure what we’ll do. Back to the British Museum for awhile at least. In less than 40 hours we leave Britain. Boo hoo.

In which we Walk, but Keep Our Heads

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
./\./\./\./\. Individuality ./\./\./\./\.
Who ever I am, let me be
For I was born for individuality
Every judgement put upon me
disrupts my creativity.
And if all I choose to do
Does no harm then
every judgement put
upon me is someone
else's caged individuality
True power cannot
crush it, and power
that unleashes
suffering will
eventually
destroy
itself!

Journal entry:
We are back on the English breakfast plan, which they serve here from 7:30 to 9:00. I woke Beast up around 8:15 so we could get down there in time. It’s the usual round, along with serve-yourself fruit--two kinds!--yoghurt and cereals, and juices, served by Filipino women. Yes, they were speaking Tagalog to each other.

We filled up and returned to our room to get ourselves situated for our day at the Tower. We got there around 10:30--decided to buy tickets at the Tower rather than at the tube station. That was a mistake. Long lines at the ticket booths, but it was a nice day, so it wasn‘t that bad. It would be bad in rain, or wind. But the whole thing is much more organized that it was in 1984. There was a bunch of construction going on then, so then it was a mess from the tube station all the way to the ticket booth area. I just remember lots of booths hawking tourist junk and people piled on top of more people. This was much more civilized! No tourist junk in sight. Lots of people but not piled up.

Once we got our tickets (a twenty-minute wait, at most), the crowding subsided. We bought a guide, then headed for the gates where my purse was searched and walked into the Tower. We went directly into Thomas Tower (imagine that!), which shows what kinds of changes have been made over the centuries to the buildings. We followed that with the Wall Walk.

Since there was no apparent line to see the Jewels, we headed over there. Amazingly, we had NO WAIT. None at all, and in fact we were able to ride the people mover past the Jewels twice. Meanwhile, the guards chatted and explained to the kids how to stand just so to make it look--in the reflection in the glass of the display case--as if she or he was wearing the crown. The jewels are spectacular, and they have done everything possible to keep tourists from dropping dead out of boredom in the incredible lines inside the building. They show Elizabeth’s coronation in one part of the lines, and the history of all the jewels in another section.

After looking at the sparklies, we walked through the enire White Tower, which is all about armaments. Interesting to Beast and Sparky, not so much for me. I pretty much spent the last half of our time in there trying to figure out where the loos are. It was very crowded and, as I finally figured out, there are no loos. The armor was kind of cool, though, and the cannon were neat too. Good equestrian exhibit with models of kings’ horses with each king’s armor next to "his" horse. These guys weren’t very tall...except Henry VIII.

Found the women’s loo, outside, although there were sure a lot of pretty 'old' boys using it too (like 12ish) because the nearest men’s loo is on the other side of the grounds.

Luckily, this is next to the entrance to Beauchamp Tower, our next stop. Beauchamp is where many prisoners were kept just before they were put to death. The famous chopping block is right outside in plain view of the windows. The walls inside are covered with graffiti, which is now covered in plastic to protect it from tourists. There are notebooks you can carry around that explain each bit. Some of it is quite elaborate. Not everyone kept prisoner in here died, but many did. It’s a sad room. Not quite so bad as the prison in Lincoln, but only because there were a lot more tourists around charging the atmosphere with 21st century-ness.

We ate at the Tower cafe for lunch: £30 for what would have cost £15 outside the Tower. Decent food -- SLOW SERVICE. I could have eaten my sandwich in the time it took the guy to carve the turkey and place it perfectly in alignment on the bread. I could have eaten TWO, in fact.

After eating, we examined the ravens, looked over some of the ruins from the earliest version of the Tower, and gleefully nudged each other at the sight of the line to see the Crown Jewels which now extended about fifty feet outside the building. Like Lenin’s Tomb. We took a few more pictures and then exited the Tower so we could cross Tower Bridge and take pictures of ourselves there. We proceeded to walk along the Thames across from the Tower to Southwark. The Cathedral there is beautiful outside; we didn’t go in. Next time...

Eventually found the Globe where we shopped, used the bathrooms and took a couple of photos. It would be fun to see a play here, but it was pricey.

OK, everything in London is pricey. Ouch.

We crossed the Millennium Bridge (ped only) to get to the Mansion House tube stop. This is the bridge they had to close because they were afraid it would flip. It's been fixed (so they say). Amazingly, I was fine on it, and Beast didn't seem to be too freaked out, but Sparky "didn't like this" because there are holes in it. All for the sake of aerodynamics or something...? Nice views, if you aren't looking at your feet and worrying!

The view toward which we were walking is St. Paul's Cathedral, but we just couldn't face it at that point. Mostly, it was me: my feet hurt. Bad shoe choice again. We tubed home, rested for an hour, Beast showered and I caught up my journal, and then we went to Mable’s Pub on Mabledon near Euston Rd. Nice place, decent pub food. Friendly staff. Right across Euston is a Novotel. Hmmm.

Sparky was asleep by 8:30 or so; we are watching some TV, but we are probably going to be checked out by 10 at the latest.

In which we Arrive in London

N.B.: This entry is dated on the date of occurrence, not the date it was written. There are two journal entries dated 25 July, but I've separated them in the blog: see bracketed information below.

[Long delay--I couldn’t find this journal last night. Mad panic, thought I’d left it in Leicester ----- what did I say about anyone who might find it?? Whew. I just packed it too well.]
_____________________________________________

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
Palm Lovers...

Playing is healing,
And healing is so much of what we need,
Imaginations fused are a study in mischief,
Evolve with your lover~~
Knowing you must eventually let go.
Embrace your lover in this time you have been given
To be together.

Journal entry:
I think we left around 10:00 after a second day of nice normal breakfasts: cold cereal and hot toast. Jesse is probably glad to see the end of us especially as I got all weepy as we left. Weird. I definitely had gotten over my nervy day, but was still tense about London for some reason. And I hadn’t cried when we said goodbye to anyone else. Poor Jesse!

As we left, Daphne gave us her usual choice between ‘short’ and ‘quick’ routes. We chose short, which resulted in us driving through the countryside a bit before getting onto the motorway. Normally, Jean and Reg's house is about 7 minutes from it, but we drove south parallel to it for about 20 minutes. Once we got to Daphne's choice of motorway entrances, we cruised south with no problems at all. In fact, the traffic leaving London was atrocious: at a complete standstill in two different areas.

Daphne directed us off the motorway early for some reason. We stopped for gas and ended up driving through several far-western London suburbs (e.g. Ruislip) during prime shopping time. Also known as lunch-time. Busy, lots of traffic. Lots of roundabounts. Lots of people. No place to park to grab food. By the time we reached Heathrow, I was pretty hungry. Finding Hertz was a little tricky and that at least took my mind off my stomach (a difficult achievement!). Maybe it was just that I was sad to say g’bye to Daphne. I’ve decided I want my own Daphne, but she won’t be British at home. Sad.

The Hertz guy offered to call us a cab as we unloaded the boot. We eventually caved in, chickening out of the tube. The cab driver charged us £48 for the drive (arranged before we got in the car); he also told us if we called him Tuesday he’ll take 20% off the return trip on Wednesday. We’re still deciding.

He was a good driver. Very calm. His claim to fame is that he’s driven for Peter Gabriel twice, though he didn’t recognize him the first time and had to be told he was famous. He’s also driven people to Paris. And back.

Once again all the bad traffic was coming toward us: a nasty accident on the other side of the dual carriageway on the outskirts of the city had everything backed up there. On the other hand, that loosened up the driver’s tongue. I think he was a little concerned because I sat in front rather than Beast. He eventually told us he was Pakistani, and the penny dropped for us. It's not usual for him to talk to women he's not related to. Of course, we knew he was probably Middle Eastern, but we weren't sure which country. I was amused by the fact that he had a very Amish hairstyle and beard. He was a very nice guy.

The drive took about an hour, a good trip, through Hyde Park and Kensington Park. I actually knew where we were for the last ten minutes. So things haven’t changed THAT much in London! I think it kind of weirded out the driver that I kept turning in my seat to say to Sparky, "Just a few more blocks" and "There's one of the tube stops we'll be using."

We got to the Harlingford, which is on the corner of Cartwright Gardens and Mabledon (and Leigh St.). Had I known that it was the corner, I probably would have tried harder to book a hotel further down the row. There are 5 or 6 hotels next door along Cartwright Gardens, in a Georgian townhouse row. As usual, our room (#26) is up two flights of stairs. Can’t quite figure out the numbering system: there are rooms in the 20s on the floors above and below us. Fortunately, we are near the end of the hall--unfortunately, it‘s toward the corner, not away from it. It’s fortunate because the fire doors by the stairs SLAM every time anyone goes through. It’s a trade-off: we are further from the fire doors, but overlooking the intersection.

The room itself is TINY. But honestly, more sensibly arranged than Durham's digs. Here's the description:

The door opens in the middle of one side of the room. To the right is a double bed against the side wall. To the left is a single bed against the wall. Both side walls have small niches to put glasses, book, etc. on in lieu of a nightstand. The bathroom door is between the hall door and the single bed, just next to it (it wouldn't be hard to grab the wrong door at night!). The room narrows slightly as you go toward the window, making the room somewhat pie-shaped. There is a narrow reception-style chair, and a decent-sized desk with TV above it to the left of the window (on Sparky’s side), and a midget Ikea-esque closet to the right of the window. The closet for the room next door pokes into our room next to our closet. The bathroom is very Intourist-y, although there is a shower curtain and the toilet seat isn’t wooden. In fact, I think the hotel bathroom in Samarkand might have been bigger than this bathroom. People under 5-feet tall and 90 pounds would be fine in this room; everyone else has to leave to change their minds! This room was clearly added on by narrowing the hotel corridor--the corridor weaves its way down to our room like a drunken college student.

When we arrived, we pretty much dumped our things and left again to find food. It was probably 2:30 by then. We found a fish & chips place 'round the corner that also did burgers and other quick fried food. Bad choice. [I’ve been paying for that choice all day today...ugh.] Oh well, we were really hungry and it was too late to hit a pub--the cooks had all left for a couple of hours, till dinner. We know. We checked.

After eating, we walked to King's Cross Station to buy tube passes for the remainder of the day. They are in a massive construction project that encompasses St. Pancras and King's Cross and is a giant mess. Must come back to see the final product! Sparky did his run at the barriers at platform 9¾. There is a sign set up over an unused archway near platform 9. Very sweet. Sparky was not the only kid--in fact there was a 19ish-year-old taking a load of photos and trying to suppress her grins of excitement. There was also a sweet little French girl of about 6 years.

We tried out our tube passes by riding to Russell Square so that we could see the British Museum. We arrived around 4:00, so we only got a bit over an hour to see the exhibits. The Great Court--restaurant and meeting place only--is open till midnight but the rest of the Museum closes around 5:30. So we scooted quickly through the Egyptian exhibit and went into the Reading Room, which is VERY IMPRESSIVE, before stopping for tea at the cafe in the court. Mmmm, scones.

Back to Russell Square tube stop--through the Square itself this time--where we tubed to Embankment station so Sparky could see Big Ben. We walked from Parliament up the Thames past Cleopatra's Needle, crossed the street and walked up to The Strand where we found a beautiful Italian restaurant called "Paradiso e Inferno." Wonderful food! We sat next to a table full of Russians, which was weird. Every time I’m in London, Russia becomes important for some reason. They were all smoking incessantly, and most of them didn’t have much English. I got a strong sense of Mafia from them. Strange. I don’t usually go directly toward that stuff, but there was just something....off...maybe something I subliminally understood them talking about?

Just after we finished, the place lived up to its name -- it got REALLY HOT. We discovered at that point that the kitchen was downstairs where we were seated. We also suddenly became invisible to our waiter, apparently because all we wanted to do was leave. I very nearly fainted. Hot flashes suck.

We finally escaped, and strolled to the Charing Cross tube station. We rode back to Euston station, where after wandering around a bit we managed to find our way to the hotel. Where we crashed into bed.

Laundry Day

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
More small writing, so no Jane's journal.

Journal entry:
I was up this morning at 8:30 -- Sparky made it to 8:10! Almost unheard of; he’s obviously tired. Beast got up at 9:35 and Jesse stayed in bed till after 11. Typical young man. Laundry didn’t really get going until later than I'd expected--around 10:00--but I’m on load two with the first load already hung out and half-dried. It’s a lovely day. I’m sitting on the bench in the back garden in the sun while the boys--Beast, Sparky, Jesse--get lunch things together. It’s nice being waited on; and it’s wonderful to have a "down" day of just hanging out. No pun intended.

The downside is that it is almost 1:00 and I’ve only finished two loads. The machine takes about 90 minutes per load to wash. Oh, well. Better on the clothes, I hear...woops, there goes the timer for load three.

Long pause while I hung the wet clothes, took down dry ones, and attempted to get organized. HAH!

So now it’s 3:50. I also ate lunch since I wrote last, and did a couple of crosswords. Most of the clothes are dry, or nearly so. I checked email this morning and set a tentative time to meet A. in London on Tuesday.

Jesse will be doing a variety of church-related camps for the next three weeks. At one he is responsible for at least one lesson, so he has been working on something for it all day. At one point, he came into the living room and scanned through parts of the video of "The Last Temptation of Christ" with the thought that he might use a scene as a visual aid. I kept quiet, but he eventually realized that perhaps showing 13-year-old "newbies" Willem DaFoe as Christ having vaguely drug-induced visions might not work out very well. I love this movie, but I think his kids might need something a little more concrete.

Sparky--surprise surprise--has spent the day engrossed in his GameBoy. Beast is reading his book. I think his idea is to finish it before we get to London.

I should look in the freezer for dinner ideas. Ugh -- this is not a fun day. Part of the reason I go on vacation is to avoid cooking! I’m having a nervy day anyway, full of worries about "things that could go wrong in London." Anxiety about Beast hating it, the hotel sucking, the general cost of the hotel (astronomical), finding places to eat... I worry too much!

We did "discover" that Shrody was accidentally trapped in Jesse's room for an hour or so earlier in the week, which accounts for the catty smell. He has clearly left his calling card somewhere. I don’t seem to be having a huge problem up there, but I’m glad we’re leaving in the morning before it becomes an issue for me. The living room here is much worse, and my hands are getting very chapped from prophylacticly washing them every 20 minutes.

Another delay while I scrounged for food...

Jesse and I made spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner. After eating and doing the dishes, we drove over to Rosellen's house because she had told Jesse he could borrow her swimsuit for one of his camps. She had not realized he meant to wear it, so she refused him ultimately. He has to do something like "weird swimwear" so he'll have to come up with something else.

We had a chance to say goodbye properly to Rosellen anyway, after watching about 15 minutes of a "Friends" episode in her living room. She claims to have housemates, but they are all gone. So, "Friends" in England, with a giant poster from their most recent pub-karaoke contest among 17 nationalities. A bit surreal.

Early to bed, but we are in no rush to leave in the morning. We can’t check into our hotel in London till afternoon, so we’ll have a leisurely drive to Heathrow to turn Daphne and the car in (sniff). We’ll probably catch the regular tube into Central London rather than trying to do the express thingy. Too complicated with suitcases and so forth. I’ll be sad to say goodbye to our very good car. And Daphne. :-(

In which we Drive and Climb and Drive and Shop and Drive a lot More

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
True Meaning of the crucifixion in today’s world.

The serpent in the garden of Eden did not mean the disgrace
Of humankind but rather our awakening to the link between
Sexuality and spirituality. The crucifixion was an actual vision
Of the future, of what man would become if he continued the
Torture of his own kind and that of the planet.

Mary did more than just hold Jesus after his descent from
The cross, she resurrected him with love as a symbol of
All who resurrect hope in today’s world of holy wars
And misguided, unloving religious fanatacism,
For when you are truly loved and loving in every way
All around you are TRULY loved.

Journal entry:
Up at 7 again for our scheduled breakfast. We had small smiley potato cakes instead of fried toast triangles. Otherwise, it was a rerun of yesterday's meal. Chatted with the other guests--a local woman now living elsewhere, home visiting family, and a woman from NYC. Yesterday there were two couples, but they must have moved on.

We had finished shoving the rest of our things back in suitcases before breakfast, so we basically retrieved them, hauled them downstairs and paid up--cash only. Our car was fine, inspite of the worry about the broken glass, and we asked Daphne to please direct us to Housestead’s Fort at Hadrian’s Wall. She, naturally, did a fabulous job, getting us there in about an hour.

The shop at Housesteads was at the bottom of the hill near the road. It is currently having proper toilets added. I think the woman there said they were also adding a small cafe. Now it‘s just all torn up, with an ordering window for snacks only. And a nice shop. To get to the fort itself you must go through a sheep gate and walk up a steep track to the entrance and one-room museum. It’s not an awful walk--thank goodness we’ve been doing hills all week!--and there are lots of scenic sheep scattered about the hillside. Lots of them. It’s really a pasture. Takes about 20 minutes, with a breather break halfway up, because I’m out of shape.

At the top you enter the museum where you can get a quick overview of what you are about to see. I wish I would have spent more time doing that, with the guidebook (which is the first guidebook we’ve bought that has some actual chunks of meaty information in it--I’ve been very disappointed in the dumbing-down of most of the guides). Unfortunately, we didn’t buy the guidebook till after we walked around the fort.

Once through the museum, there is normally an entrance through the south wall of the fort, but it has been so wet that the grass has slid, so they have a new path in, but it's pretty slippery.

The fort itself is remarkably well-preserved, especially considering people have been dismantling it rock by rock for pasture walls for two centuries! There are areas where the remains are waist-high or more. They really sell the fact that they have an almost completely extant latrine, which was very interesting. But the whole layout of the place was absolutely enthralling. It is built along Hadrian’s Wall, as all the Roman forts were every few miles; this one is unusual in that it doesn’t straddle the Wall itself. It can’t: the Wall runs along a cliff. This fort was built in the second phase of the building of the Wall, and like the whole project it was done fairly quickly.

The ground is very much sloped away from the cliff‘s edge--why does one always assume archaeological sites are flat?--so it’s clear that this would be a very defensible position for the Romans. On the north side of the Wall about fifty feet away from it and for most of its length the Romans dug a trench for added security. They did a similar thing by digging a vallum, basically a flat-bottomed trench about 100 yards south of the Wall. These trenches are still visible if you know where to look, as are the terraced farm fields (which you have to climb up to get to the museum).

Kids love this place. After all, it shows where people pooped, and kids are allowed to run around and climb on rocks. What more could a kid ask? It was fun to see them dashing about.

We headed back downhill eventually, stopping quickly for drinks at the snack shop, but figuring on lunch and souvenirs further down the Wall. Except, when we reached the Tourist Centre, it turned out to be much tinier than the shop at Housesteads. And no restaurant at all. Oh, well.

Instead, we directed Daphne to take us towards the area in which we stayed in ’96. We ended up going through Alston, Appleby, Kirkby Stephen and Thwaite, before reaching Muker, which is about ten minutes from Low Row and our erstwhile rental house there.

Now, if you look at a map, this looks like about a one-hour drive. WRONG. We stopped in Alston at the Co-op for picnic supplies--there are no restaurants in sight on this trek, or at least no take-out places. We had finished our sandwiches and apples before reaching Appleby and desolation. There is absolutely NOTHING but sheep between Kirkby Stephen and Keld. Oh, I forgot the tour coach/bus, which--no exaggeration--ran us off the road because the road was exactly the width of the bus itself. No trees. Lots of bracken and thistles and grass. And sheep. Have I mentioned them? This was also the one area so far in which Beast had no signal at all on his cell phone. But the scenery is spectacular, the weather ever-changing, and if you don’t think about winter, the moors and dales are beautiful.

Muker was wonderful, like an oasis in the desert. We got the sense that local people don‘t cross back over where we had just come from. Very insular. Nice people though. We stopped in Muker to stretch and to buy a hat for Beast at Swaledale Woollens. We ended up buying a lot of other stuff, too. Handmade, all of it, using local crafters and local wool. [Have you heard, there's a lot of sheep around?] From there we cruised through the villages, including Low Row, to Reeth. The house we rented is no longer a rental; the farm itself is now a regular school-tour stop, and the hostel up the road seemed to be closed. We weren’t able to stop and play quoits.

After a quick stop at a bakery in Reeth for some shortbread, we spent another two hours getting to Richmond and then to the A1. Then it was highway driving for four hours to Leicester. Amazing. Distances are so deceiving. Part of the problem was that we got caught in rush hour traffic around Leeds. Around that time it also started to rain. It was pouring by the time we reached Nottingham traffic. But as we approached Leicester the sun came out again.

I had told Jesse we’d be late, not to expect us till after 6:00. We pulled in at 7:30, and unloaded the car quickly. He had already given up and cooked himself something for supper, but he acquiesced and came with us when we begged him to think of a place we could eat. He took us to Local Hero (I think that was the name); it’s similar to Applebee’s, with bar (not really a pub) and a restaurant. Good food. He had a companionable pint with us. It’s a busy place: attached to the big theater (movie) downtown, and the Safeway.

Home and crash into our beds...after we made them. Sparky’s was still done from when we were here before. Marie and Jan had slept in our room (actually Jesse's room--can you hear more Family Confusion approaching?) but they had stripped it when they left for Germany on Tuesday. For some reason it smells of cat in here, even though Schrody’s not allowed in. I checked: no spots that I could find, but very fragrant anyway. Maybe from outside?? It’s warmed up again since the rain this afternoon, and the sky is cloudless, so it’s another warmish sleeping night.

In which we Climb More Hills and See More Old Buildings

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
Free falling into the sea of your destiny...

I will go with the height of the sky and the
Depth of the sea to free myself from the dark
Hole of security and fear.

I will not seek solid ground upon which to land.
In my descent I shall ascend
In my ascension I shall be uplifted.

I will not pick myself up and dust myself off
I will fall with the full force of my destiny
Into the sea of truth, pain and love
And emerge with the full strength of the universe in me.

Journal entry:
And it rained overnight, leaving us with a dampish morning, but generally clear weather for the rest of the day. The weather forecasters are not impressing us any more than the ones at home do.

We were up bright and early. Beast didn’t sleep very well: we are directly across from the Durham Workman’s Union Hall, which is at least in part a bar. Lots of music and inebriated noise in the middle of the night. Oh, well. No sirens, so fighting. That’s the good news!

The breakfast at the hotel is served between 8:00 and 9:00. The room, on the ground floor, faces directly out onto the street, just next to the front door. It’s about the size of an average (American) living room, with about six tables sitting two to five people each. There is a bookshelf/cabinet with all the "extras" on it: yoghurt, cereal, fruit, coffee, juice, etc. The meal itself was the usual English breakfast: toast points, sausage AND bacon, egg, tomato. A proper fry-up. BURP! We left quite full.

We had already put our parking passes for the day in our car last night, so we headed directly down to the river. The cathedral doesn’t open until 9:30, so we had some time to burn, which we used by walking along our side of the river on the tow-path, although I‘m not sure it’s an actual tow-path. From that vantage point there is a terrific view of the castle and the cathedral. We passed a few people, some obviously on their way to work, some out for a morning walk, and some tourist types like us. The Wear is one of the those calm English rivers, with weirs. Flat, tame and clear. You can see to the bottom. We walked past the weir-house (is that what it’s called?) and up to the next bridge: Prebends.

I should describe Durham city a bit: The river comes from the east and makes a sharp 90-degree turn to the south as it hits the bluff where castle and cathedral and old city sit. It heads south about 500 yards and then makes a U-turn around the bluff and heads directly north past the castle. So the old parts of the city are between the river on a little peninsula. Rather odd. It makes the downtown area very small and makes a natural barrier for defense.

Upon reaching the other side of Prebends Bridge, we turned back towards the cathedral on that side of the river, following another footpath uphill and into the grounds, although we weren’t exactly sure where we were. We ended up walking 3/4 the circumference of the cathedral just to get to the entrance. Which was a nice tour, really.

This cathedral is architecturally quite different from Lincoln and York. It’s smaller, and older. Much more solid and earthy. Heavy columns, lower ceiling. No flying buttresses, no repeated pointy Norman arches, etc. Inside it also gives much more of the sense of a church in use. There are proper pews in the nave, which is probably part of the reason. Also, behind the nave, in the Galilee chapel, is the tomb of Bede. There is a shrine and altar for St. Cuthbert at the front of the cathedral. Both Beast and I feel that we need to read up on these two guys.

The door knocker is a rather frightening reminder of the real meaning of sanctuary: if you were in trouble the monks would indeed let you in, but if the law was after you, the monks only gave you 39 days to settle your affairs. It wasn’t exactly the unlimited sanctuary as I have always sort of thought.

Another chapter house, another design. Also beautiful, but different from the others again. The Monk’s Dormitories were interesting; they now house much of the cathedral library and a market-cross collection. Really cool. The Treasury was also very educational and beautiful: lots of copes and capes and illuminated manuscripts and so forth. And the remains of Cuthbert‘s coffin. We must figure out why he was so important!

By this time, it was noon. Great timing: the castle closes till 2:00 for the public. So we set off down the hill to find some place to eat. Sparky’s vote was adamantly for the Hogshead. [Thank you Harry Potter!] It was decent pub food--pub food being a new & different concept! Durham is a small enough city that most of the old part of downtown is about five square blocks. Unfortunately, it’s also vertical mileage, which doesn’t show up on maps! I brought the wrong shoes. I just keep reminding myself how strong my legs are getting.

Anyway, we were back to the Castle by two, along with about 25 other people. Since the building is still used by the college and they serve meals there to residents, you are only allowed access with a tour, or as a temporary resident. It’s used as a dorm, weirdly enough, during the school year. We had a very interesting guide; he seemed nervy and scattered but dropped all kinds of knowledge into our heads:

• the food is blessed by virtue of the carved Dei Gratia over the kitchen door.
• the castle was really the bishop’s house, and his downstairs quarters are now a gentlemen-only area.
• the castle is slowly sliding down the hill into the river; they expect it to go completely in a couple hundred years.
• the older dorm rooms have two doors.
• the oldest part of the castle is underground, a chapel that may predate Christianity.
• the name of the river is pronounced “Weer” (sort of like “weird” without the 'd')

After the tour, we walked back (down) through town, stopped at both Boots and Woolworth’s, looked for possibilities for dinner, and eventually went back to the room for a late siesta--mostly enjoyed by Beast. Sparky played his GameBoy and I did crosswords, read and napped briefly.

By 6:00 or so we were out and about looking for a place for dinner. My “Durham Eats” list was providing no real assistance: some of the places were out of business, and most of the others were pubs. We ended up at a place called Hollahan’s on Elvet Bridge, near the bridge itself. It is a trendy little place with "zoned" atmosphere: a sofa with a coffee table in the window, our smallish dinner table with three chairs, tables outside, some more eating and drinking areas up- and down-stairs...

We felt a bit out of place--bringing down the tone they were trying (hard) to achieve--but the waiter was nice to us. He was one of those guys who I would have drooled over when I was here in 1978, but now he’s just a young, silly-haired boy. The food was good, better than pub food. And, sitting as we were in front of the entrance, we had a wonderful view of the street and people passing by, coming in/out of the restaurant and chatting. I also was able to look directly across the street above the shops into the kitchen of a small apartment. It looked homey and cozy, friendly, even more so when the owner began serving drinks to his unseen guests. ;-)

After filling our empty stomachs, we walked (down, then up) back to our digs, packed up all the crud we’d had out over two days, and hit the sheets fairly early. Of course, it was lovely and breezy-cool in the afternoon, but by now the heat of the day has entered our third-floor room and made itself at home. We are right under the roof, and there is no insulation.

York -- The Fast Tour

Jane's Journal Page Notes:
Dare Your Self

...To sleep outside,
Sleep under the stars,
Sleep naked and alone,
on a cliff edge,
outside -- alone,
I dare you!

Journal entry:
WHAT HILLS! Durham has hills, Lincoln has gently rising and falling terrain!

Wait! I should back up:

We did manage to get up around 6:30, but didn’t get to the breakfast room till 7:45, which meant we didn’t leave until after 9:00. Oh well. We didn’t even have time to check for the confirmation email re Elizabeth's train ticket. She’s got the full-blown cold now: runny nose, congestion, sore throat.

The drive to York was fine. It’s not too far from Lincoln (all of these drive times are around two hours so far), but York is a City, where Lincoln is a city. We had no trouble with directions, thanks to Daphne, and found both the train station and a parking places quite easily. I was astounded at how many open parking spots there were! Walked into the train station and Elizabeth had her ticket in about 4 minutes! No queue, no waiting. Just walk up to a machine, do the magic the internet instructed her to do, and Hey presto!

I picked up a guidebook and map at the Tourist Information Center at the train station and off we all trotted off towards the minster, stopping for lunch at a pub--the oldest licensed pub in York. Ye Olde Starre Inn. It said we'd be able to see the minster, but it was barely visible, even if the neighbors had kept their bushes and vines trimmed back. But we all had nice sandwiches in the sun.

We continued wandering the streets, eventually finding to the Shambles. This is the famous tourist trap of York, where the houses are built out on the upper floors so that they nearly meet over the street. We bought dishtowels and fudge (what a weird combination, but the linens were over 50% off!). Then we had to take Elizabeth back to catch her train. We got her on the right train, but as it pulled out of the station, we realized she was on the wrong car. Hopefully it all works out!!

Then we headed back across town, inside the old city walls, to the minster. Since we got there around 3:30, we really didn’t have time for much more than a quick-step wander through it. The Chapter House was the coolest bit again, different from Lincoln’s in design. The choir and organ were warming up for Evensong. At 4:30, the Dean (or a stand-in) came over the loudspeaker and asked us to quiet ourselves. She then did a nice long, probably canned but very heartfelt prayer for the world, and for us visitors. What a warm feeling it was looking up afterward at the North Transept windows and thinking about all the other people through the centuries who have also prayed here.

We walked the city walls...well, just one stretch of them. Lovely views into people‘s back gardens and across the city. We had to head back to the car then because it was rush hour and time to head north to Durham. In spite of our traffic fears, we had no problems getting out of York. I guess we were going the 'wrong' direction. The drive across to Durham on the A1 was uneventful. We made it in just over an hour, but then spent twenty minutes driving around the neighborhood of our lodgings because we didn’t have a complete address to give Daphne. She got us to the intersection, but we couldn’t figure it out from there.

The problem is that this intersection looks like a simple three-street intersection. Actually, there are 'streets' that parallel two of the main streets, so we really have a intersection of six streets, build on a hillside. It’s hard to explain. Our 'guest house' is right at the end of one of these subsidiary streets, with its name written over the door in four-inch script. Impossible to see from the main street, which is about a 9% grade, and goes one-way the wrong direction to boot!

ANYWAY. We found the place eventually. I went in to be sure our room was still available. I had told the owner we’d be there between six- and seven-o-clock. By now it was close to 7:30. She told me we were late. Should have taken a clue from that, eh? I think she’s just brusque (and not in a good way); she did explain the parking passes we had to have in the car while we were there, and gave me our key with no big fuss.

Beast was in melt-down having been trying to back into a parking spot going the wrong way down a steep hill, with a manual transmission, only to find the rear tires resting on glass. We had to truck up the hill again with our suitcases in tow (we packed light, but we still had two small bags and a bigger one, along with his computer bag).

As we went up the stairs, the proprietess said, "It does seem as if the people with the most luggage always end up with rooms all the way up the stairs." Ugh. Of course we do: that's where the bigger rooms are!

The room is nice, but quite literally half the size of the one in Lincoln. Sparky’s in a folding bed stuffed in between Beast’s bed and the desk. I’m in the corner. There is one window, over Sparky’s bed. The floors creak and the bathroom is small (shock, eh?) but nice. There is a closet to put our bags in, thank God, or we’d really be SOL.

Let me just say: Castle View Guest House is tight quarters, but great location. Out the door, down past St. Margaret’s Church to the river, back up the other bank (past a Pizza Hut, sigh) and you are in the old city. Which is the route we took looking for dinner. It was now 8:00. The town had buttoned up completely. Nothing was open (well, except Pizza Hut and the pubs). We ended up eating in the very back of a decent pub called The Marketplace (on the market square, oddly enough), where they fed us, but warned us that Sparky wasn’t really meant to be in there after 5 or 6. Oh, well, it was decent enough food, not spectacular, but we were awfully hungry. And they were nice about it, since I’m sure their license could be yanked.

We took a quick walk up to the cathedral after eating and wandered around the lawn outside of it. Peered into the castle grounds (which are part of Durham University, so private property and closed completely to tourists after about 5 p.m.). Instead of walking all the way back to the marketplace and down to the river from there, we instead found a back alley that twisted its way down to Framwelgate Bridge. Very creepy, but we ran into no one at all. It was just dusk as we reached the bridge, the pubs were cranking up along the river there, and we headed back here to bed.

It’s nearly 11. There is rain forecasted for tomorrow. Drag.

In which we Appreciate Lincoln

Jane's Journal Page Notes:

None today. I wrote small. ;-)

Journal entry:
The plan for today was to rise and shine early. Huh. Well, we did get up fairly early, but because we have a large, noisy, boisterous group here, we weren’t exactly zooming. Plus, Beast had to go pick up Elizabeth, who is traveling with us for a couple of days. She had to be brought back to Jean & Reg's house so her parents could say goodbye. They are off to Germany the day after tomorrow. Confused yet?

In the melee, Elizabeth left her jacket at Rosellen's, so Marie will go get it and mail it to Elizabeth when everyone is back in their own houses next month. Aha, NOW the confusion has hit full-force! Welcome to my family.

It is a nice drive up to Lincoln. We relied primarily on Daphne, with me following along on the maps I had. Lincoln isn’t a very big city, so once you are in the city, you are very nearly on top of all the "sights." Our hotel, Hillcrest, is on a quiet street midway down the hill from the cathedral and castle, with the tiniest little front parking lot ever. There is just enough room to drive down off the street directly towards the front door and turn abruptly, almost making a U-turn, into a parking spot. Of course, Beast wanted to back in.

It’s a secure building, so we buzzed to get in, and a young woman with very little English took us downstairs to the registration desk. Yes, really, downstairs. This is not a Holiday Inn. The desk is set up in the hallway just outside the bar/restaurant on the garden level in the rear of the house. First odd, but cool, thing.

The second odd, but ultimately nice, thing is that the owner was standing there as we finished up and she gave us the 45-second verbal tour of Lincoln: what’s good, what’s not, how to get there, and when the restaurant in the hotel served dinner. No lie: 45 seconds. She’s very brisk, and in a good way, too. My suspicion is that she's Buddhist, based on the presence of a Gideon Bible AND two books on Buddhism in the hotel room.

We collected our luggage and trooped back upstairs to our rooms. Well, actually, just to our room, since they were still cleaning Elizabeth's room. Hers is on the main floor, about 20 yards from the front door in a small and very cute room. Not 'cute' in real estate terminology, but more like a luxury train car 'cute.' Our room is upstairs one flight--but OH what a flight! Wide enough for at least four people on each tread, stained glass on the landing, and probably 20-foot ceilings! We are around the corner from the stairs in a triple room that is nearly American in size. Almost Holiday Inn! heh Except, really nice.

Since Elizabeth's room wasn’t ready, she put her suitcase in our room and off we went immediately to find the cathedral. And lunch. We used my trusty list of Lincoln Eats (compiled painstakingly last winter and spring from 6-8 different travel guides) and went to Brown’s Pie Shop, just down Steep Hill from the cathedral gate. Steep Hill is the name of the street. It is. Steep, that is.

Wonderful meat pies, about 8” around and 4-6” deep. Oy. Yeah, I could live on them. And Elizabeth & I had sweet carrot soup, which was amazingly lovely. Not really sweet, but very very tasty. Yum. We were SO full. Best restaurant meal so far, I think.

After lunch, we did a longish self-tour of the cathedral. Sparky found the imp, after much searching; it’s awfully high up. Even I had to have it pointed out to me. The best parts of the building were the Chapter House and the altar. They also have a very cool, modern "stations of the cross" except not really...anyway, it’s all carved wood. Quite interesting. A bit hard to explain, and I'm not sure if it was an exhibit or a permanent display. I wish I'd paid closer attention or picked up a book on them, because they don't seem to be in the regular guide book.

The organ was playing here, too, and before we left the choir had begun to practice. I lit more candles.

There was also a group of folks setting up for a medieval mystery play just in front of the quire; one of them stopped and chatted with us, and invited us back for the dress rehearsal tonight. Unfortunately, we ran out of time and didn’t go.

We had a nice visit there, but the consequence is that we got to the castle with very little time to tour it. I also didn‘t really understand that the main castle building is actually still used, as a court. So we couldn‘t go in there, but we did get a chance to go in the building that was the prison and see one of the four extant copies of the Magna Carta. That was very impressive; they‘ve done a neat preparatory display. Thank goodness, as us Americans are a little vague on the concept, frankly. In the room where the document lives, there is a recording of someone reading it aloud. It is unidentifiable as Latin or English. Even the docent says she can't understand what part is being read, and she stands there all day!

We also walked through the rest of the prison, which was mildly spooky: we were the only people around. There was children’s art hanging on some of the walls, bright and colorful in a dreary hallway. In another section some black and white photos of a woman "prisoner." It was art, but creepy art. I can’t really explain it, except that she was the saddest looking person. The photographs are mixed in with some cursory "prison life" displays. It may be that the building is haunted. I'm about as likely to admit seeing ghosts as I would be likely to eat my shoes, but there you go: clammy skin time.

The creepiest part of the place is the prison chapel. It is a largish room with theater-style steps down to a well in the center. Above the well along the back wall is the pulpit, where the minister would stand about 25 feet up from the base of the well. The Victorian theory was that, even prisoners in solitary confinement--which meant solitary ALL THE TIME--had to attend chapel. Probably even more so, since obviously their immortal souls were at stake. But they were in sentenced to solitary, so some arrangement had to be made to keep them segregated from one another.

Each level of the ‘audience’ side of the room had a series of doors through which the prisoners walked, one by one. When one was at the end, the door he’d just walked through was shut, enclosing him in a narrow coffin-like 'room,' with a shelf on which he could probably rest his arms in a properly prayerful position. I’m assuming few prisoners were taller than I am (about 5’8”); they would have had their arms at shoulder height. The only view for them was of the minister in the pulpit. No prisoner would have been able to see anyone else. There is also a little misericord to sit on, but then you'd be below wall level; a little claustrophobic.

I'm sure they could hear one another, but bursting out with noise in church was ... ahem ... frowned upon, I'm sure. Chapel tended to run three to four hours. Then they’d be removed back to their cells. Still in solitary.

This little experiment lasted only a few years. Apparently, many of the prisoners went mad.

I’m not in the least freaked out by tight spaces normally. I love caves, and elevators don't bother me in the least. These 'cells' made my stomach hollow out. I couldn’t even close the doors properly without getting nauseous. Awful awful room. It certainly didn't leave me with much of a godly feeling in my stomach.
_____________

We walked the castle walls and towers until the grounds were closed to tourists. Then we walked up opposite Steep Hill--behind some barristers? Solicitors?--to a bank with an ATM (there is a corner with three different banks on it. Competition is thriving in the North!). On the way back down the hill, we stopped at an ice cream place. Everyone else had ice cream cones; I had tea and a scone. It was tea time after all! We ate in the shop, downstairs, in a little groined cellar area that was somehow very churchy and lovely. Much more godly feeling there!

These few moments of respite gave us energy enough to walk back down to our hotel, where Elizabeth took her suitcase into her room and we all had a half-hour rest period. Then we negotiated dinner: Should we spend £14 each on the restaurant meal at the hotel, or hike back up the hill to where all the other restaurants and pubs are. The area around the hotel is primarily residential; there is a large park behind us, of which we have a beautiful view from our window. Very quiet; no traffic. No places to grab food quickly either.

Our Scotch sides came out: we walked back up the hill to the other side of the cathedral and had a perfectly lovely pub meal in the garden at the Bull & Chain pub, among the trees and bushes (and swings and slides). No other little kids, a few other adults. Quiet, close enough to hear the chiming of the cathedral clock. Perfect.

Walked back to the hotel where we went downstairs to the garden area behind the house and had a drink and attempted to plan tomorrow. It really was a beautiful day today: sunny and warm, but not hot. The garden is above that park I mentioned above, in which Sparky discovered there is a giant lion statue. He immediately decided it was Aslan.

Once it got chilly out and we realized that we couldn't plan for tomorrow without some more information, we came back up to our room. I took a shower (typical British loo: small,. It is at least functional) and then gave myself a manicure and a pedicure and read, and wrote a lot of this, while Beast and Elizabeth got on the internet with Beast's laptop.

Elizabeth is coming with us to York tomorrow, where she’ll catch a train to Manchester. She’s staying at a hostel there tomorrow night and then flying home the next day.

After about two hours, they ended up--we hope--reserving a ticket for her, which we can pick up tomorrow at the train station in York. Very cool. The internet is amazing. British trains are amazing, too.

Elizabeth has come down with a cold; she spent the day saying she was sure it’s allergies, but it’s not. Her flight home won’t be fun, but at least right now, it’s just sniffles.

It’s late, I’m tired and we hope to leave early tomorrow. I hate to leave here. This is a great hotel, and Lincoln is definitely worth more time spent wandering around. It’s not very touristy, actually. Could it be all those hills... ;-)

In which we Picnic and Do Laundry

Jane’s Journal Page Notes:
Live For The Day...

Live for the day
That your work
Gathers strength enough,
To carry you through
Your darkest hour
Beyond the platitudes
Of your wildest dreams.

Journal entry:
Not a very exciting day today, as is usual after a Big Day. That sort-of letdown, "that’s all there is?" feeling, plus joy that it’s over at last. At least for me. :-)

We were up by 8:00 or so and packed. Yes, I finally had a real shower, only three days after arriving on this island! We checked out of the hotel and loaded our bags into the car. Then we walked over to the cottage where Jean & Reg were staying and found them cleaning like mad. They‘ve been in Wakefield for under a week, but it is amazing how much stuff had been spread out!

When we arrived, we were told to eat everything we could so it wouldn‘t have to be packed back home. So we tried, but failed to snarf the entire table. Cleaned up the kitchen, put away all the dishes and cookware, finished loading up their car--they have a minivan, oddly enough, because it‘s the only car Jean can bend herself into.

While cleaning up the house, I asked what a good "typically British" woman’s name was. I’m tired of calling our GPS by The Nice Lady in the Dashboard or boring old GPS. Jean jokingly suggested "Daphne" which struck me as funny, so Daphne it is.

We drove Rosellen (and I think Elizabeth) back to Leicester. It was about a two-hour trip, but it went quickly because we had good company. Daphne got us to the house with no problem (although she told us we were there--"You have arrived at your destination"--about half a block away...). And a nice house in a nice neighborhood it is. Much quieter street than their old house, with pretty front gardens along the street. The houses are two-storeys instead of three, so it doesn’t feel quite so closed in. And they have a small modern grocery store just a block away, which I think we’ll be using a lot!

House plan:

Entry with steps going up directly in front of the door. The stairs are open and there is a small window under them because again they have a passage from back garden to street, just like in their old house. I think all the houses here have them, though. The entry hall is just wide enough for the stairs and a passing area into the other rooms of the house. The living/dining room is to the right of the front door with a big window at the front. There is a fireplace that acts a bit as a sort of visual room divider; I think it’s an electric grate. LOTS OF BOOKSHELVES--the whole shared wall is bookshelves, in fact! Now that I think of it, there is another electric grate in the living room end of the room.

Beyond the dining room, through French doors, is the new kitchen. I think it used to be the den or office, but since they moved in in March, Jean & Reg have had people in to install the kitchen there instead of behind the entry hall. It’s not a bad size, but I’m spoiled with my gigantic kitchen; I could get at least two, maybe part of another, into mine. Very self-contained, even with the washer and a dryer (at last!!) in there. A glass door opens onto the back garden patio.

From that door, if you turn left and walk along the back of the house, you will reach another glass door (with a cat door in the bottom) which leads into what used to be the kitchen and is now a decent-sized office area. There is another door straight across from the back door that opens onto the passage. That’s where bicycles and garbage cans are kept. Off the office area there is a small corner for the cat box and recycling containers, and a little room containing a toilet.

Upstairs. Turn right and stop: to the left is the bathroom door, straight ahead is one bedroom door and to the right are two more bedroom doors. Narrow hall, mirroring the one below. The upper floor is not as deep as the main floor, so the back windows look over the room into the garden.

The bathroom is a bathroom; not much to say there. The first bedroom is Jesse's room, the "cat-free zone." He’s normally got a single bed in there, but it has a trundle, so right now it is FULL of bed (basically a Queen size--the two singles are next to each other). You can tell he’s at college; it's decorated only desultorily. This room also has a whole wall of closets including Jean's linens, because she has no warming cupboard in the bathroom! Shock!

The room next to Jesse's is Jean and Reg's. Then at the front of the house is a room with a bunk bed in it, just over the front door. It is TINY! The size of that front entry hall, no lie. Jesse. and Sparky are sleeping in there. Marie & Jan are sleeping on one of the sofas in the living room; it folds out into a bed.

They have a cat, have I mentioned this? She's a very nice cat, named Shrodinger, Shrody for short. If you don't get it, it's a physics joke. Ha ha. I don't get it.

So we unloaded our suitcases from the car, unpacked a bit, started laundry, and unpacked groceries. By the time we had all that done it was lunchtime, so we took everything to the back garden where there is are tables, and had a picnic. Blankets on the lawn. It was fabulous.

While the laundry continued, we drove Rosellen and Elizabeth to Rosellen's house across town. That’s where Elizabeth is sleeping tonight. The house is definitely student housing, but not hopelessly awful. Well, except for a pretty horrible bathroom, primarily because of the color. Oy. All Rosellen's housemates are off on vac, so the two of them have the place to themselves; Elizabeth is sleeping in one of the other bedrooms whose normal inhabitant is home visiting her family in Mexico. We left them preparing to meet some of Rosellen's other friends for a picnic in a park later on. Don’t waste the beautiful sunny days: two picnics per day is fine!

Beast and I headed back to Jean and Reg's where we watched the British Open and kind of lazed around while the laundry finished. It‘s a very slow machine, but at least we could dry stuff indoors. Marie did hang some of the heavier stuff outside, but I didn‘t want to my underwear hanging outside!

Made it to bed sort of early bed for a change. We had to vacate so Marie & Jan could go to bed, and I had to get out of the living room because I stupidly sat on Shrody‘s favorite chair and then rubbed my eyes. I can’t be around her at all. I expect a very itchy night!

Nice to not have mad panic all around, and to have some normalcy. Although anytime you have this many people in my family in a smallish confined space, it's a little noisy.

Wedding? There's a Wedding? Today?

Janes Journal Page Notes:
The Thread of Healing

Lead YOUR life, do not deny your truths,
Live, love learn and lose --- graciously.
Face your weaknesses, delight in your strengths.
If you teach yourself compassion, your life will come to you as easily as a child asks "why?"
For once one is healed, there follows many
to pick up the thread and meet
at the place in the path
Where the soul is healed

Journal entry:
It’s late...well, late for me: 11ish. I feel very old. There’s nothing like a family wedding to drain the strength from one’s bones.

I didn’t sleep well again last night--up till 2:00 AM worrying about not being able to sleep. Shades of the decade of my twenties! Consequently, when the front desk rang us at 8:00 to tell us about breakfast, I was not in much of a rush to get right downstairs for cold toast and fried tomatoes. Beast went right back to sleep after the phone rang. I tried to do the same, but couldn’t. Got up, attempted the impossible task of rousing Sparky so I could use his shower. There is only one key per room and he’d locked himself in (see yesterday re keys). I finally just ran a bath in our room and dunked my head in bath water to wash it. TOMORROW I’M HAVING A BLOODY SHOWER!!

Eventually, the boys woke up and each took a hot shower. We were too late for the hotel breakfast, so we went to Chez Famile and begged. Not unexpectedly, Jean was a bit of an emotional whack-job, crying as she cut a baguette up. Picture Katherine and Alan and me at the kitchen table watching her flail away with the knife. Alan just got up and left -- he’s not related. Yet. Katherine and I just sat there with, I’m sure, deer-in-headlights-looks on our faces.

{Katherine and Alan, Rosellen, and Jesse have joined us at the hotel for the next few nights, along with several friends of the couple. We’ve taken over the place!}

We got to the church right on time--12:30--timing it perfectly to discover that the wedding plans were shredding a bit.

Crisis #1: It was raining, as it has been off and on for several weeks. As it does in England. In fact, England is sort of known for rain. So why don’t the bride and groom know this?? They both grew up here.
Crisis #2: They had planned to serve juice before the ceremony; the juice wasn’t there. It eventually came, but only about 20 minutes before the wedding.
Crisis #3: The guys they had hired to do this evening’s BBQ called this morning to say they couldn’t be there; they had overscheduled or something. Ben was recruiting some friends to cover it; apparently they had hired the cookers separately from the cooks, so he just had to find people, not equipment. Just. On his wedding day.

The wedding itself was lovely -- the women in my family in tears except me because I had to hold it together for the poem. I couldn’t even look at anyone I knew for fear I’d break up. The "homily" portion was .. uhm, facile and sort of pointless, and silly, but otherwise a nice service. I like their pastor, but he didn’t do the homily. One of their friends, a young pastor, did it.

It took them forever to leave the church and get them on the way to the reception, as the family waited in the rain. I glanced at my watch at the end of the wedding, then glanced ever more frequently at it for some time. It took them thirty minutes. Really. As we all stood there with rice paper melting in our hands. They eventually did leave, just as the sun came out. Hurrah!!!! On many counts...

Because the reception was designed as a picnic, and since we had not been told what the arrangement really would be, and dreading sitting all afternoon on the ground in dressy clothes, Katherine, Alan, Elizabeth and the three of us came back to the hotel, changed into better outdoor clothes and found the reception by GPS. I’m in love with our car.

We realized as we started off towards the reception that we had no map, just an address in another suburb, no one had suggested how to get there. Thank God for GPS!! Otherwise we’d’ve been SOL. When we arrived we found everyone waiting on us for photos and very worried. Hmph. No one informed us we were still doing something as traditional as family pictures; up to this point--and afterwards--family was completely incidental to the whole pageant. All of us latecomers, except Sparky, were thrilled that we’d changed into jeans. Katherine was quite put out, as only she can be.

The reception itself began with picnic lunches, packed in carrier bags. Under a large, enclosed tent. Nice, very very clever idea. Ben and Marguerite had done all the food packaging themselves, with a lot of help from friends (and Rosellen, but not Jesse because he was informed he’s "useless" after a short foray of assistance; no one else in either family was even asked!). Three kinds of salads, two varieties of meats, several kinds of cheeses, naan bread and tortillas...lots and lots of food. And three bottles of wine per 10-person table. Whew. Lots of leftover food, but tasty and good. The new couple made the rounds, but never quite got to the family tables before the next "entertainment" commenced.

Games outside, down the hill away from the tent. This is a sort of city retreat center, I think, so there were swings and a treehouse, the latter commandeered by the obnoxious group of friends who hauled up umpteen bottles of wine, broke at least three of the rungs of the ladder and got blitzed. We played Frisbie. It was fun. Everyone had a good time.

After we’d had our fill of Frisbie, we went back to the marquee to find the band preparing to perform. There was a group of people trying to do back flips on the lawn in front of it, and Marguerite finally caught up with Beast, Elizabeth and me. We told her we were having fun but wished we’d had more of a chance to meet some of their friends. Marguerite told us that their friends all find us "different." She realized how that sounded, probably because Elizabeth and I looked dumbfounded and burst into laughter. Then she got all tangled up in it: no, no, it’s just that we’re loud and opinionated. This right next to the back-bend contingent and the drunken treehouse gang. But this is us on our good behavior ... with none of them even speaking to us to find out our opinions!

The discussion kind of stopped at that point because the band really started to warm up. They played a few loud very well--the lead singer looks like a young Graham Norton--including several Beatles songs, "Soul Man" and another Chicago blues tune, and "Blue Suede Shoes." Very very good.

Then speeches from the father of the groom (Reg, for those of you keeping score), the best man (er, woman) and the couple themselves. Or rather the couple himself. Marguerite said not a word. Cake was cupcakes and/or jammy scones. Very cute. The original plan was for everyone to bring a cupcake to add to the cake stands--yeah, ok, all us out-of-town people are going to be BAKING the day of the wedding?! Glad someone talked them down from that...

Things to ponder and try not to stay cranky about:

• Ben's patronizing "Don’t panic!" to me (and Jean) when we asked about reserving seats in the sanctuary (I told him we weren’t panicking, just trying to take some of the burdens off him.)
• Rolling Rock beer??!
• Speeches began after 8 pm. Cake served at 9:45. BBQ-rebuilt served at 10, as we were leaving.
• Glad to know that Americans aren’t the only parochial slobs with no clue how to be civil. I always knew it, of course, but now I have empirical proof
• There’s a song about pink and blue toothbrushes? How weird. But I guess that’s the joke of the whole thing, lost on and never explained to us Americans

If we really are scoring at home, I’d give the wedding itself about an 8. No one tripped over the flowered aisle-runner, and the service was very well-planned. Obviously they had completely thought it out, because they did nothing traditional. Except signing the paperwork in the middle of the service, which is trad here.

I’d give the picnic a full 10 for overall coolness. I’d give the games a 9 for the same reason. We missed the BBQ. The music was a 10, but they only played that one set.

So, on the surface it looks like a 9. So how come I feel like a -2??

• Because I’m tired and snarky.
• Because I feel as if I spent much of the day repeating things like, "It’s only because s/he is stressed," and "Just tell me where, when & what to do; otherwise I’ll be sitting in the corner quietly."
• Because I’m tired of being quiet about being placated, ignored and presumed upon.
• Because I probably behaved every bit as poorly at Marguerite's age when I got married!!

The arrogance of youth.

When I was younger, so much younger than today
Never needed anybody’s help in any way
But now these days are gone; I’m not so self-assured
My independence seemed to vanish in the haze

Help me if you can -- I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you bein’ round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won’t you please, please help me?

Wish Marguerite would have listened to these lyrics! It’s what the whole battle between Jean and Marguerite has been about...not that there have been any pitched battles, of course. All Marguerite would have had to say is "What do you think, Mum?" a few times.

They played this song tonight. Irony.

Ah, well, good night. Maybe sleep will improve my vision.

In which the family Prepares for a Wedding

Janes Journal Page Notes:
Torn Self Portrait

Tomorrow I will find myself,
I can hide no longer,
In someone else’s definition of me,
I define myself...
I am the torn shreds,
Of all the great women who have gone before me,
Put together again by my hand,
The hand of an artist, healer, teacher?
A secret now, but not forever.

Journal entry:
Right, so when I finally got up this morning, I tried to shower. BA. gave me a short lesson on how to work the shower controls. I flunked the lesson: the water was scalding hot and I couldn‘t figure out how to adjust for cold. I stood in the far end of the tub and had a splash-wash, hitting critically important areas and dampening my hair without shampoo. I kept flashing on Samarkand in 1985. What is it with me and cold water!!

Naturally, Beast had no problem at all 10 minutes later. Oh well.

We made it to the family cottage around 11 a.m. We may have eaten some breakfast then; I can’t remember. We walked over to the hotel reception desk and checked to see if our rooms were ready; they were. We moved into the hotel itself, because BA.s other son and his family are arriving. They had arranged to stay together but we arrived a day earlier than originally planned and BA. graciously offered to put us up.

We are now in the hotel proper: Beast & I are in a double room, Sparky has his own single room next door. He's very happy. They are much nicer than the cottages. Still smallish, but more normal shower controls (in Sparky's room--we only have a bath!). I find it so interesting that in homes the bathrooms are enormous, but in hotels they tend to be small, although these aren’t too bad. Our windows still face the street. We are actually just on the other side of the wall from where we were last night...

I must mention the owner of this hotel. He is probably 55-years-old, a very nice man, with a long ponytail of graying hair and a marked limp. He and Jean make a matched set of weird walkers. This hotel was probably built around 120 years ago; it’s not ancient, but it is older than most hotels in America. They still use the old, heavy clanky metal keys. Extremely interesting place. Ben and Marguerite did well selecting it.

After we dropped our suitcases in our rooms, we ate lunch and went off to be tourists. We went to Wakefield Cathedral and walked through some of the downtown area. Marie, Jean, and I had a confused conversation in the Cathedral about why the Vicar of Wakefield (in Goldsmith’s book) was a vicar, not a bishop. Turns out the Cathedral was just the parish church up until the mid-19th century. It’s not a fabulous cathedral, but it’s pretty impressive. Weirdness: the bookshop is in the rear side aisle. Nice kneelers, cross-stitched with all the kinds of employment in Wakefield. I lit a candle for Ellen, as the organist was practicing while we were there. I couldn’t get her out of my head.

We walked back to the cars and drove to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park to see Henry Moore works. I still don’t get him. But we had a nice walk through the park--after tea in the small cafe there--with giant sculptures surrounded by milling sheep. Maybe the sheep understand the art. Got a chance to properly talk to BA. with my brain fully engaged. I like her.

At the pre-ordained time we headed back to the hotel to drop off a few people, then went to the wedding rehearsal. I forgot to mention that last night Jean asked me (for Marguerite) if I’d read a Robert Frost poem, which she and Reg had done at their wedding. I think I was chosen because he‘s American and I have an American accent. Not sure why me when Elizabeth's more actressy...It is lovely to be asked, though.

Here’s the poem:

The Master Speed
No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness not for haste,
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still --
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.

They didn't have me do it at the rehearsal, but I got the hint that there will be no mic. The church is round. And yes, it is indeed an unusual ceremony. Unusual songs. Unusual readings (besides the Frost, they are using something from the second chapter of the Song of Songs, Colossians 3:12-17, and something from "The Prophet").

First impression of Ben: he seems calm and confident. Much like Reg in a way. It was good to finally meet him!

Things I haven’t mentioned:

• Chester & Jennie, the hotel dogs--a lab and a retriever. They are kept in a wired area near the corner where we turn to walk behind the hotel to get to the cottages. Never together. They are puppies, after all, and quite excitable. Sweet.
• Our GPS rocks! We programmed in the Sculpture Park and it knew better than Reg how to get there!
• The flowered "carpet" Marguerite & Ben. will walk into church on tomorrow. Voile with large plastic/silk flowers sewn on randomly about eight inches apart. It’s probably fifty yards long, but then ruched up in the aisle, just waiting to trip someone.
• Jan... whew... He's in rare form, makin' almost everyone nuts.

The rehearsal dinner was back at the hotel. This is something that the Brits don’t normally do. And it showed: finger sandwiches for dinner--interesting concept. Basically, tea about three hours late. Even Ben was taken aback. They weren't awful, and certainly food enough to keep me till morning. But I think he expected a bit more, something a bit nicer.

We had the bar and meeting room to ourselves. Actually, I suppose it was more like the 'snug; and the dining room. But that’s not where they serve breakfast...there seem to be an awful lot of public rooms, considering this isn’t a very big hotel!

We did meet several of Ben's friends. They are apparently Marguerite's friends too, but primarily they knew him first: former roommates, former workmates...of his. Also met his brother and family, and his dad, who is quite a character, apparently a bit like Jan. Reg’s siblings and their spouses were there, whom I haven’t seen since 1985. Wow. It was good to see them again. Also, Katherine and Alan arrived in time for the festivities. She is exhausted. They’ve had a good trip, but have covered 1200 miles to date! Somehow! {They arrived 6 July and head home on the 20th and have spent 10 days driving from Manchester to Wales to Bath to.....etc., etc. all over the island.} Alan, on the other hand, seems quite perky. He's a good guy.

I’m tired tonight but not really wiped out. Tomorrow I need a shower--my hair is uck! I’ve come upstairs to get my brain slowed down so I can sleep; Beast is still downstairs -- "for awhile," he said. But not too long. I’m going to read about Wakefield Cathedral, practice the Frost (i.e., talk to myself) a time or two more, and possibly do a crossword.

Wedding news tomorrow!