Back

We are (if only temporarily) back. Back from the land of non-edible-bacon, unbelievably narrow bathtubs and temperamental showers. Back from the world of hold-your-breath-and-try-to-sleep double beds and look-to-your-right crossings, the kingdom of roundabouts and poorly-marked streets and an amazing lack of public safety warnings and devices that we accept here as normal. Goodbye, England! Hello, America!

We had a great time. There is no possibility of failure when you are seeing children and grandchildren, unless one or more of the party is sick. We weren't. JC and I started out at the Reform Club: you know, the place where Phileas Fogg made his momentous wager? Gorgeous library and public rooms, and wonderfully well-located on Pall Mall itself. But I assume Mr. and Mrs. Fogg (much less Passepartout) never spent the night. The basket of a hot air balloon might have been roomier than our double room.

Before joining Kay, Paul, and family in Bath, we took the train down to Greenwich to see the Longitude exhibition on display there (coming soon to your local Folger Library) and stopped by the Portrait Gallery in London to see their collection of portraits of the Tudors. The most interesting piece (I thought) was the plaster death mask of Henry VII. Comparing it to his portraits--and later, to a bust in the V and A--was pretty cool. We joined some friends at a pub (Only the Running Footman) in Mayfair for dinner, then trundled off to Pall Mall for an attempt at sleep. Failed. Until we figured out a method where one of us slept on the floor on a makeshift bed of extra pillows. Unsatisfactory.

The train ride to Bath is a short one, but schlepping luggage--even a single bag-- from room to lobby to taxi to train--and reversing the process at your destination-- is exhausting, even traveling light, as we always do. We managed. In Bath before the kids arrived, we realized that we were extremely well-located near Pulteney Bridge: a hop, skip, and a jump (we're talking 3 and 6-year-olds here) from the river, parks, the Abbey, the Baths, and lots of restaurants. We found a tea shop and indulged in sandwiches, scones, Bath buns, Bath truffles and some well-deserved tea. England at its finest.

Audrey and Claire at the Avebury churchyard

When the kids arrived, the week took off like a rocket ship. Monday in Bath, covering Abbey, Baths, and the rest of the town (including our friend, the tea shop, for lunch.) The Baths featured an audio tour, which our eldest grandchild took to like the proverbial duck to water. She and I left the others in the dust, pressing every button at every point of interest and listening attentively to the descriptions. Other tourists marveled at her thoroughness. As did I, as I normally skip a lot of the audio in the interest of moving along. However, if anyone wants to know what exactly servants did with olive oil and scrapers and perfume at the baths, I am now well-informed on that. Or any number of other aspects of life in Roman-occupied Britain. As is Audrey. However, we did meet and converse with a Roman legionnaire (photo op!) about the waters, Hadrian's Wall, the time it took to march from Scotland to Bath, and assorted other topics, which was a lot of fun.

On subsequent days, we took in Longleat (not to be missed if you like seeing wild animals up close and personal), Stonehenge (another complete audio tour) and Avebury (no tour, but an adventure in avoiding sheep droppings), Royal Victoria Park (complete with 'Flying Foxes', which is British for a zip-wire for kids) and an assortment of restaurants, which, by and large, treated us all quite well and with a fair amount of tolerance, the cathedral at Wells, and--a generous sprinkling of gift shops that obviously know a great number of the buttons to push for children and their accompanying adults.

Busy as we were, we managed to fit in a little non-giftshop shopping--excused by the fact that we don't see the little girls often enough to truly spoil them. The week was all too short, and it seemed like we'd just started when it was time for us to board our train for London...and go back to the inadequacies of Skype communication.

Missing you, Audrey, Claire, Kay and Paul.