London Calling


Well, I made it.  London, at last !

Despite my fears.

Despite the last 2 years of legal threats.

Despite the challenges of travel, including having my business class departure-only airline tickets cancelled without notice from anyone.

I made it to London after emptying my emergency stash of money in my bank account, and making traveling without a safety net my reality. (Scary, but I’m making it work).

I’m wide awake at 3am London time, having had a wonderful and exhausting time at Stonehenge and Bath today, and falling asleep right after dinner.  *That* is the reality of leaving home and one’s comfort zone.

Weird hours.

Wide awake AND exhausted at the same time.  Starving and surviving on rice krispy bars and water (as the food does NOT agree with me – even the hot dogs).

But here, capable, and curious about all that history has to offer.

On my tour today from London to Lacock to Stonehenge and Bath, it was the words of Pablo Neruda (spied on a plaque in passing) that struck me the most:


This journey has brought me the joys of seeing Dick Francis’s world of misty fields and pastures brought to life from his racing mystery stories:


To sharing an adventure with a very dear friend and bringing her the joy of getting in among the stones at Stonehenge:


Running around and marveling at all the cozy Cotswold stone cottages and their lovely gardens, one could not help but feel that that the triumphs and tragedies of WWII and D-Day, Or WWI and Armistice Day happened just days past.



Red poppies were in bloom everywhere, reminding me of how much was lost in 1918 during WWI.


…only to be repeated again in WWII and beyond.

Here live the ghosts of Man’s inhumanity to Man, along with some of his most inspiring creations made by Man to glorify a belief in a higher power, and a calling to each soul to be more to the world than a beast of burden; a brute, determined to destroy rather than create.




I could feel my Mother’s love all around me.  Daisies everywhere I looked (her favorite flower), and grave upon grave of strong women, buried with the children they loved and lost too young.  So many cemetaries we visited during my childhood vacations, as she struggled to come to terms with the death of my younger brother, Jimmy, who came into this world in hope and perfection, only to leave us all in 3 short days.  A SIDS mystery from which we both never recovered.



Life, death, passion and endurance everywhere I looked.  So much beauty, pagentry, and the indellible mystery of how a land will keep renewing itself and its people.

I can’t wait to see what the upcoming days bring to this adventure.