So last week was mad–we got a last-minute flight to the UK to see my family. It was a special occasion, a big family party with four generations, from my aunts to my great nephew (or grand nephew as he would probably be called in the US) who is, shockingly, old enough now to drink legally (in the UK, anyway).
And when I say last-minute, I mean it. We found the ticket on Friday and on Monday afternoon we were sitting in the BA lounge looking at our plane:
The next day we were here (a pub that academic medievalists–at least those who travel to conferences–will no doubt recognise):
The weather was very unsummery: rain, humidity, fifties and sixties. But so much better than the biting February cold of my last visit.
I spent an inordinate amount of time wandering about various English parks with my father. Here’s one of his favourites, the Canal Garden at Roundhay Park:
Note the ominous clouds. But it didn’t worry us. We just tootled off to that building at the end which, handily, is a old pub called The Roundhay Fox (but which used to be called The Stables–and that’s a broad clue for those still trying to guess about the second photo).
So, anyway, today I’m back, jet-lagged out of my mind, but still planning to attend the George R.R. Martin event (a fundraiser for Clarion West) on Saturday. And the weather for the next few days looks glorious:
Life is good.