Monday morning–my first sugarless day– I was awakened by the sound of birds singing and cows moo-ing: Since I was still the only one up, I went round the cottage filming the window fixtures and talking to myself: When I finished this catalog of domestic quotidian, I took off my glasses to polish a lens  Read the Rest…

(This is the final entry in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) The third week of June was a strange time to be in London.  Brexit was approaching its vote.  A beloved MP, Jo Cox, a strong advocate of immigration, had been assassinated outside her constituency office in Yorkshire.  The country was  Read the Rest…

(This is the twelfth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) I’ve wanted to see Canterbury Cathedral for as long as I can remember.  Never more so than after I read The Canterbury Tales a few summers’ ago.  It was on the itinerary for Wednesday but I almost didn’t go.   There were  Read the Rest…

(This the eleventh in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) London is my favorite city in the whole world but I ached on the way to the train station.  I had loved not feeling (completely) like a tourist.  Wendy, Sue and I had gotten on well together and I felt a lot  Read the Rest…

(This the tenth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) The day after my birthday, Sue and Wendy had appointments in Wells but I opted to stay home.  I was intent on finding a footpath, if I was lucky, to Street.  Or barring that, just a footpath to walk.  They are everywhere  Read the Rest…

(This is 9th in a series that begin with A Night in Steerage.) After my experience in Wells, I wasn’t eager to try new bus adventures.  I wanted to go to Nether Stowey to see the Coleridge Cottage.  Sue looked into it for me and said that the bus would only get me to within  Read the Rest…

(This is 8th in a series that begin with A Night in Steerage.) On my way to the Old Pier to catch the bus to Wells I chatted with a man who ascertained for what felt like the hundredth time which side of the street I wanted.  It’s funny: there aren’t that many buses in  Read the Rest…

(This is the fifth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) Saturday, June 11 arrived.  This was the day I had planned my entire trip around.  The day of the St Leonard’s Church village fete.  We’ve all seen fetes on PBS mini-series: the big hats, the tea tent, local musicians, crying children,  Read the Rest…

(This is the second in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) Butleigh is a small village in Somerset, a county west of London, north of Cornwall.  In previous trips to England I have spent most of my time in Cornwall because that is where I, in a sense, came from.  My great  Read the Rest…

I leave for England in less than a month.  I am in the most delicious phase of anticipating the trip, the one where departure is actually in sight.   The next most delicious phase is after you’ve come home and slept a few nights in your own bed. The actual travel is arguably the least fun  Read the Rest…