England and Scotland -- July 4, 2008

July 4, 2008
8:10 PM, Central Standard Time

Here I am on my first trip to England, the country I’ve read so much about and have wanted to visit so much all of my life, even though I have no real connection to it at all.
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I was never able to afford overseas travel before. I’m glad that Gary and I are able to afford it now, and that I’ll be traveling with him.

Our British Airways flight has currently been delayed for 20 minutes. Another BA flight is having mechanical problems and they’re going to transfer some of the passengers onto our plane. It’s annoying being delayed, of course, but I guess that’s one of the things that happens during travel and must be endured with patience. We can see fireworks displays from all the surrounding regions as we sit here on the runway, so that’s kind of entertaining. It’s ironic to be leaving for the “mother country” on the same day we celebrate our independence from them.

It was interesting to see how the bartender at the bar in O’Hare’s international terminal switched easily from English to Polish to Spanish as she waited on customers. I guess that’s almost a requirement for working at an international airport, and certainly a plus. I also saw a whole family (I’m not sure what nationality they were – it sounded like they were speaking Italian but I’m no expert) all wearing Chicago T-shirts as they carried their trays of McDonald’s food to a table in the food court. Another Arab family was all wearing Chicago Bears jerseys. I guess when in Rome, you do as the Romans do no matter what nationality you are. I’ll probably be doing the same when I get to England, if I ever get there . . .

England and Scotland -- July 5

July 5
6 PM, Greenwich Mean Time

We finally made it to our hotel in Rugby, Warwickshire after a long and winding road.
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The transfer of passengers onto our plane took more like 2 hours instead of 20 minutes (I should have known that first estimate was too good to be true). We didn’t take off until almost 10 PM, then had a whole 6½ hours more in the air. (We considered asking for an upgrade on our flight back for the inconvenience, but in the end we just wanted to get to our destination with no more delay.)

The service was great once we were on our way – alcohol and a full hot meal (including salad, roll, entrée and two desserts) actually included in the price of your ticket!! Just like it used to be on U. S. airlines! They also had video screens in the back of every headrest with a full selection of movies you could listen to on your headphones. They even gave away a little “travel package” containing socks, a sleeping mask, and a traveling toothbrush complete with a tiny little tube of toothpaste. The next time we have a long flight like that, though, I think we’ll go ahead and spend the extra money to travel in the first-class section. The extra leg-room would be worth it.

Sleeping on a plane is always difficult for me, so I finally took a sleeping pill, put on the sleeping mask, and stuffed in my ear plugs. I suppose I did manage to sleep a bit, because the next time I was aware of anything, they had already served breakfast and we were over England. From the air, it was all very green fields broken up by rivers and lots of church spires.

Finding our way to Rugby wasn’t too hard because of the Google directions I had printed out and the GPS system I spent all day Friday re-formatting for Gary. The motorway was full of lots of small, unfamiliar makes of vehicles, all with yellow license tags. (Our rental car was something called a Vauxhall Vectra that runs on diesel fuel.) Gary identified lots of really cool cars that you don’t see every day in the U.S., which was pretty thrilling for him. We saw Lamborghinis; Aston Martins; a Ferrari; some “smart” cars; American cars like Chrysler 300s or mini-vans with right-hand-drive; Japanese versions of cars that aren’t sold in the States, like a 5-door hatchback Toyota Camry; and funky-looking, box-like London taxis.

It was a little un-nerving at first to be driving on the opposite side of the road and sitting on the opposite side of the car than in the U. S., but you get used to it quickly. You just follow the crowd. You’re all right as long as you remember that everything traffic-related here is backwards: the center line in the roadway should always be on your right; the right lane is used for passing, always look to your right when crossing a street, etc. The motorists here are pretty good about following the rules of the road. No slowpokes clogging up the passing lane. The ones who do break the rules are probably dumb foreigners like us.

We saw a couple of military vehicles driven by soldiers, too. They’re the only vehicles here that have left-hand drive – I guess because almost everywhere they get sent to fight uses that system. I think the United Kingdom is one of the few places in the world that still uses right-hand drive vehicles (except for some former colonies and Commonwealth countries, I guess).

Once we got into Rugby, we had some difficulty finding our way around. Our hotel wasn’t facing the main road, but was located in a little side street that was blocked off from traffic because of a street market that was going on. We drove around town several times for almost half-an-hour trying to find it, then had to find a place to park. Very narrow, twisting, poorly-marked roads and confusing traffic circles (called roundabouts here). A modernized main road and downtown section, but a lot of the buildings are very old and quaint. Everything here just reeks of history.

Our bed-and-breakfast, the Three Horse Shoes Hotel on Sheep Street, is one of those old buildings with narrow, crooked, old-fashioned hallways and staircases (no elevators). I learned later that it’s been a hotel or inn since the 1700s! (Although it’s modernized now, of course).

We have a nice clean little room looking out on a narrow little cobblestone alley, but with 2 twin beds instead of a double. I guess Gary and I will be sleeping like Rob and Laura Petrie tonight. (I always wondered how they managed to have Ritchie with those beds. I guess one night Rob just said, “Get ready, Laura, I’m coming over!”)

We went walking around town and had ale at a pub called The Black Swan. There was a betting parlor directly across from it, with old men standing in front rolling their own cigarettes and betting on Wimbledon and the Tour de France. When we found out the pub had stopped serving food at 3 PM, we found another pub right by our hotel called The Bull, made sure the kitchen was still open, and had fish-and-chips and bangers-and-mash (sausages and mashed potatoes, in American English). Now we’re crashing in our room, trying to recover from jet lag. Tomorrow is the British Grand Prix at Silverstone Circuit. We passed the exit for it on M2 on our way in, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find . . .

England and Scotland -- July 6

July 6
10:30 PM GMT

Watching the Grand Prix today would have been fun except for the weather, which was cold, blustery, and pouring rain.
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Yesterday had been fairly mild – partly sunny and in the low 70s. I knew it was going to rain today, but had no idea it would also be so cold and windy. Or maybe it just feels colder when you’re soaking wet.

We didn’t want to spend the extra money for grandstand seats, so we were with the rest of the unwashed masses in the general admission or lawn area (which I thought was expensive enough at almost £100 for two tickets) with no shelter except for our umbrella and a blanket. So watching the race was pretty miserable, at least until the sun broke out just toward the end and started drying us out a little. Lewis Hamilton won for England, which was pretty thrilling for most of the crowd (although there were people from many countries there, judging by the flags and banners we saw).



Gary ate a hamburger while we were there, but I wasn’t tempted by anything I saw (or smelled). Most of the food for sale there consisted of sandwiches or pasties (pies) with some kind of meat filling, but they all smelled . . . different, to put it nicely. Gary said the meat tasted funny, too. I wondered if it’s the way they cook or season it that makes it different, or if it’s how they feed the animal it comes from. Or maybe it just looked and smelled so bad because it was “fast food,” which is never very good anyway.

After we fought the post-race traffic and finally got back to Rugby, we did a little on-foot sight-seeing and found out Rugby is the birthplace of the sport (although the sport was actually named after the town school, since the school was here first). It was supposedly “invented” by a student at Rugby School named William Webb Ellis, who one day just picked up the ball in his arms during a football (soccer) game -- which was supposedly against the rules then -- and started running with it.

Like most legends, there’s a lot of doubt as to whether it’s actually true or not. But it makes for a good story. So in honor of William Webb Ellis, we had dinner and beer at a pub named after him. The roast beef there was very good, by the way, so now I know the bad food at the race was probably just due to the venue.

I also know now what “Yorkshire pudding” is. Americans always think of a creamy dessert made from milk when we talk about pudding. Apparently, the word “pudding” here is a generic term used for any kind of dessert, but a “Yorkshire pudding” is similar to a popover. It’s made out of baked bread batter covered in gravy. I’ve also figured out that a “jacket” is the British term for a baked potato, although they use different toppings here like baked beans, tuna and coleslaw.

We also watched the Wimbledon Men’s Finals while we were at the William Webb Ellis, and listened in on a game of Trivia, although they call it Quiz Night here. They asked us if we wanted to join in, but we opted out because we didn’t think we would be familiar enough with the questions. We were right – they asked stuff like “Which color line on the London Underground goes to Kings Cross?” (It’s the Blue Line, by the way.) They did ask some questions we could answer, though, such as “What color is the last stripe on the American flag?” (If you don’t know it’s red, then you can’t call yourself a real American.)


On the way back to the B&B, we stopped off a pub called The Prince of Wales. We wanted to try it because it’s right across the alley from us. We can see it every time we look out of our window. It’s pretty tiny – too small for the real Prince of Wales to ever visit, I guess (although it did have fancy red velvet stools). It’s the kind of place the locals go to. The bartender there was very nice and helped us figure out which coins were which. We’re still learning to identify the different types of British coins. She also asked us if we were Australian. I guess she knew we had some kind of accent but wasn’t sure which. Also, we were wearing our British Car Club shirts because we’d been to the race, so maybe she thought we had to belong to one of the Commonwealth countries.

When we got back to the hotel, we found out there was no hot water due to a plumbing problem that wouldn’t be fixed until the next day. I guess that’s one of the drawbacks to staying in a “quaint” hotel. Luckily, there was an electric kettle in our room so we could heat up enough water to wash and shave in (after we fiddled around with the plugs and switches to figure out how they worked).

Tomorrow we go to the Shuttleworth Museum, then on to Scotland . . .

England and Scotland -- July 8

July 8
10 PM, GMT

Was so tired (and tipsy) last night I didn’t have a chance to catch up on the journal until now.

Yesterday morning we left Rugby and drove to Old Warden in Bedfordshire to see
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the Shuttleworth Collection – a museum of vintage airplanes collected by Richard Ormonde Shuttleworth, a supposed ancestor of Gary’s (according to his mother). He was a pretty interesting guy, even if it turns out he isn’t related to Gary. He was an RAF pilot and a race car driver who won the very first British Grand Prix in 1935 at Donnington Park, driving an Alfa Romeo Monoposto. (Now I know from which side of the family Gary inherited his mechanical aptitude.) He was killed in 1940 at the age of 31 during a training flight. His mother turned his 4600-acre estate and collection of airplanes into a charitable trust for educational purposes in his memory.

It was a little awe-inspiring seeing the Shuttleworth ancestral mansion. Gary sure comes from a more distinguished background than me (if by “distinguished” you actually mean “rich”). The little village of Old Warden that we drove through on the way was a real English country village, complete with little cottages with bona fide thatched roofs. I’ve always read about thatched roofs, but have never actually seen one until now. That’s one of the advantages of driving yourself when traveling. You would never see anything like that on a commercial guided tour.

Then we were on the road for almost 6 hours driving to Edinburgh. We stopped every 2 hours to stretch and take a break. We grabbed sandwiches from Marks & Spencer and ate on the road. The north part of the island is more rugged with rolling hills; more sheep than cows; and stone walls instead of wooden fences.



Although we had the usual trouble finding a parking space in Edinburgh, our hotel was at least easy to find this time since it was a Ramada on one of the main highways through town, Princes Street, and right across from the Sir Walter Scott Memorial.


Edinburgh is an awesome place – a good-sized city, but not overwhelmingly so, with a nice mix of the old and the new. The thoroughly contemporary downtown area is interspersed with lots of old buildings, monuments, and cobblestone streets, with Edinburgh Castle growing out of the rock of the mountain above, overlooking it all. A lot of the buildings were actually here back in Mary Queen of Scots’ time.

We had drinks at several different places: The Elephant House, a neat little café where JK Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book; Grayfriars Bobby’s Bar (named after the famous Skye Terrier dog named Bobby who kept guard for 14 years over the grave of his master in Grayfriars Kirkyard); and Dropkick Murphys, in an alley underneath the bridge, where we had an interesting conversation with the Irish barman. He said he was studying actuarial math in Boston for a while and would still be there if he hadn’t flunked his exams. He was sorry he never got over to Chicago because he heard there was a large Irish population there too.

Later on, we had a nightcap of Highland Park Scotch whiskey at our hotel bar, and that finished us for the night.




This morning, after we checked out, we got to our car and found one of the city Parking Attendants writing out a ticket for not displaying our parking sticker clearly. We had parked at a meter overnight, and Gary had made a point of getting up early to put more money in the meter. But apparently, he hadn’t looked at the sticker closely enough and had placed it face-down on the dashboard, instead of on the windshield like you’re supposed to. The attendant said he couldn’t cancel the ticket once it had been issued (just like back home), but he said we could appeal it in writing within 14 days, which I will definitely do once I get home.

Then we visited Edinburgh Castle for several hours (great views over the city) before driving to the Jurys Inn in Glasgow, where we’re booked for the next 2 nights.

We checked in, then drove to Gourock and took the ferry over to Dunoon, the little town on Holy Loch that housed the Navy base where Gary was stationed 20 years ago. The base was closed down in the ‘90s, but we drove out to the pier so he could point out to me where everything used to be and reminisce. (He also climbed down and took a piss on the rocks because he really had to go, although it was kind of symbolic in a way, too, I guess. “Here, take that for everything you put me through!”)

It was raining when we visited the pier, appropriately enough as it turns out since Gary said it was raining every single time he ever got off the sub and went into Dunoon. Apparently, it was originally chosen as a U. S. Navy base because it’s under cloud cover for much of the year and couldn’t be penetrated by Russian satellites. But it cleared up for the rest of our visit there. Gary said he’d never seen Dunoon in the sunshine before.

We drank (of course) at a place called the Crown Café Bar, where I tried haggis for the first time (not bad, not too much different from a sausage) and we got into a really fun conversation with 2 old Scottish guys who live in a retirement home in England now, but come back to Dunoon often to visit.

Gary told them about his time in the Navy here and about how there was a large Scottish community at the Navy base in Charleston, South Carolina where he was also stationed. One of the guys said he used to carve walking sticks for Scottish men living in South Carolina. When he asked me how I liked Scotland, I told him it was lovely and that I already knew I wanted to come back. I wasn’t just saying that to be polite; I really do love it here and want to come back. It’s got a more rugged kind of beauty than the south part of the island, which appeals to me for some reason. It’s also less populated, which I also like, and the people seem friendlier here.

We also drank at a place in Dunoon called Sinbad’s and did some shopping at a store called Bell’s of Dunoon for woolen sweaters for the kids back home. Then we drove back to our hotel in Glasgow, ate dinner in the restaurant there (good food, but the Eastern European waitress couldn’t understand our order and had to send over one of the Scots waiters to make sure they got it right), and now we’re watching TV in bed. We’re booked here for another night, but I liked Edinburgh so much (in spite of the parking ticket) that we’re going to make a day trip back there tomorrow -- it’s only an hour away -- and explore it some more . . .

England and Scotland -- July 10

July 10
8:42 AM GMT

Checked out of the Glasgow hotel this morning and are on the road to London. The rain that was harassing the south moved north today, so we’re leaving at just the right time.

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We went back to Edinburgh yesterday and spent the day there. We went first to a visitor attraction place on the Royal Mile, the street that leads to the castle, called the Scotch Whiskey Heritage Center. It started out good, with a whiskey tasting and an informative video about how Scotch whiskey is made (similar to beer, but distilled and aged in oaken barrels) and the difference between malt, grain and blended Scotch whiskeys.

But then it turned kind of hokey. We sat through a hologram show where the “resident ghost” of their Master Blender appeared and explained about blending whiskey, then they had something called a “barrel ride,” where we all sat in hollowed-out whiskey barrels that moved along through different scenes of whiskey history. Very Disney-like. I guess they’re trying to make it fun for kids, also. But why would anyone bring their kids to a place about whiskey? Oh, well. At least we got a taste of whiskey and a free dram glass out of it.

We also went shopping on the Royal Mile for more presents; visited the National Museum of Scotland (they were supposed to have a new exhibit in the Contemporary Scotland section with Dolly the Sheep and a Scotland Sports Hall of Fame, but it wasn’t open yet); and of course visited several bars.

Our favorite was a place called The Bow Bar on West Bow Street in the old part of Edinburgh that seems to be a popular after-work spot for the locals. It had a full range of real ales like Belhaven 80 and Caledonian Deuchars IPA. We also tried something called A Piddle in the Sun just for the name. (The names of the various brands of alcohol here are great. An ale called Speckled Hen was one of Gary’s favorites. There was also a brand of whiskey called Sheep Dung.)

Gary noticed they had Guinness and Bass on tap, so he had me ask them for a Black-and-Tan. But they told me they couldn’t combine them properly (I’m assuming they didn’t have a spoon to make the Guinness layer on top of the Bass). Then we got to talking about Black-and-Tans and I ended up explaining to Gary why our friend Ann (who is very Irish) won’t drink them – because they’re named after the paramilitary reserve group of the Royal Irish Constabulary which committed atrocities against Irish civilians. Gary didn’t know that before; he always assumed Ann didn’t drink Black-and-Tans simply because she didn’t like the taste.

Later on, back in Glasgow, we went to a sports bar trying to find coverage of the Tour de France (a Brit won the fifth stage today), but they didn’t have it. We went to another place called The Goose Bar and were hoping for some food, but by this time it was 9:30 and the kitchen was closed. We were afraid it was going to be the same anywhere we went, so we actually decided to just grab something from the KFCs and McDonalds that are all over the place here. We definitely didn’t come to Great Britain so we could eat junk food that we can get at home any day of the week, but we decided it might be a good experiment to see how American fast food tastes over here. (I can tell you now it tastes exactly the same. They just have different names for everything.)


Gary got a 2-piece chicken meal from KFC and I got a fish filet sandwich from McDonald’s. (It’s the only thing I can eat from McDonald’s that doesn’t make me sick.) It took forever for them to make it -- I guess because Brits don’t go to McDonald’s for the fish sandwiches; they go for the American hamburgers. So when a dumb foreigner like me orders a fish filet, they have to get it out of deep storage.

While Gary was waiting for me at the McDonalds, he witnessed a pretty blatant act of racism. He told me later two black kids came in there with their girlfriends, and as soon as they got their food, an older woman employee kicked them out, telling them they couldn’t sit down and they couldn’t stay there. When we got outside, we noticed a group of other black kids hanging around in front acting up and making a lot of noise. Maybe that woman kicked those kids out because she thought they were going to do more of the same. Still, they hadn’t actually done anything. Gary said he felt like saying something to her about it, but didn’t want to make a scene.

Gary said he’s also noticed other instances of racism and sexism on British TV. He said one of the news shows was interviewing the guy who did the song “Electric Avenue,” and when they were done, the commentator said something like, “There you are, ladies and gentlemen. Wasn’t that a very nice black man?” I’ve also noticed that they treat women very much like sex objects here. One of the British tabloids even used to feature pictures of topless women on page 3. I’m not saying we don’t have racism and sexism in our own country – we do – but we generally try to cover it over with a veneer of Political Correctness. At least we have some sense that it’s wrong and are supposed to try to correct it, even if we don’t always succeed.

Speaking of British TV -- when we got back to the hotel room with our fast food, we were eating and flipping through TV channels trying to find coverage of the Tour de France when we suddenly came upon a show that had a buck-naked woman giving birth to a baby! I mean, we caught it at the exact moment that the baby came squirting out! I know childbirth is beautiful and natural and all that, but I’d like to be prepared for it before I watch it. And I certainly don’t want to watch it while I’m trying to eat food (especially junk food).

Overall, British TV is more “in-your-face” than American. On the late night talk shows, they have no hesitation saying any of George Carlin’s “7 Words You Can’t Say on Television.” We say them on American talk shows, too, but we always bleep them out.

Oh, well. I came here to experience what the United Kingdom is really like, and I guess that’s part of it. I wonder what London will be like . . .

England and Scotland -- July 10

Same Day, July 10
10:18 PM, GMT

We finally got to our hotel in London (the Best Western Corona on Belgrave Road) about 7 PM. We were doing OK until noon, when we got caught up in a 2-hour traffic
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jam caused by construction on southbound M6. If we had known our way around, we would have used an alternate road, but of course we’re totally unfamiliar with the highways here and didn’t want to take any chances on getting lost.

Then we took a wrong exit on one of the roundabouts and had to backtrack. Then it took another hour just to drive through the city to Belgravia because of the traffic. Driving in London is a nightmare! I think that alone finally convinced Gary that a guided tour group that does all the driving for you is the way to go next time. Either that, or we'll just take public transportation everywhere.

Dinner and drinks at a couple of pubs (The Gallery and The White Swan) helped settle us down. We also took a walk around the neighborhood. We’re in a very pretty area not too far from the Thames River called Pimlico, lined with rows of white stucco Regency and Victorian style buildings that have been turned into small hotels. It’s right in the middle of central London, so you can find anything you need with just a few minutes’ walking or a short ride on the Tube, yet the area itself is very secluded and quiet.



The Pimlico Tube station, which connects to the main Victoria station, is also only about two blocks away from our hotel, so we should have no problem getting around tomorrow . . .

England and Scotland -- July 11

July 11
8:15 PM GMT

Good day today. We saw The Tower of London, Tower Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Big Ben, Parliament and Westminster Abbey.

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Our friends the Traczeks were right – it’s very easy to figure out the Tube and get around here. We had one misunderstanding on a bus. We hopped on the Number 15 bus outside the Tower Hill Tube station to get to St. Paul’s Cathedral and asked the bus driver if our £4 fee was good for the trip back also, and he told us yes (maybe he didn’t understand our American accents). Later on, when we showed our tickets on the return bus, we were told they were not transferable and we would have to pay again. Luckily, we had a very nice lady conductor who let us take the ride back for free. She told us next time we come back, we should just invest in an all-day bus pass.

My favorite part of the day was the time we spent at the Tower of London, where I finally got to see places connected with all of the famous names of English history I’ve read so much about. I was most moved by the poignant monument on Tower Green, where Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Jane Grey (among others) were executed; the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula where most of them were buried under the flagstones of the floor (although there are no monuments or plaques for them); and the Beauchamp Tower, where the people who were imprisoned there and have been dead for so long left traces of themselves behind in the carvings (some quite elaborate) in the stone walls.


I asked one of the Beefeaters (Yeoman Warders) if we could visit the Bell Tower where Elizabeth I was imprisoned before she became queen. He said that unfortunately they don’t allow visitors there anymore because the only way into the Bell Tower is right through the Tower Governor’s House (which still has a resident Governor in it, who I guess didn’t appreciate having tourists traipsing through his house).


The Beefeater also told me an interesting story about the Bell Tower – it was the place the Brits were going to hold Adolf Hitler if they ever captured him. So during the last days of World War II, when Germany was falling, the Yeoman Warders were told to prepare the Bell Tower for Hitler. They weren’t quite sure what that involved. (Think about it: how do you prepare a room for HITLER? You would want it to be nice, but not too nice, after all.) They decided they should at least put in a better lavatory system than the medieval guarderobes, which are basically just holes in the rock with a chute leading outside. So there is now a modern flushing toilet in the downstairs section of the Bell Tower.

The Tower is also where the British Crown Jewels are kept, although they don't allow any pictures (I guess to keep people from being tempted to steal them). Everything's behind glass, of course, and they even have a moving walkway that takes you past the case where the crowns are kept. The Crown Jewels are what most people come to the Tower to see, but to me the history of the place is the most interesting part, not the "bling."


Later on, we climbed all 527 stairs up to the Whispering Gallery in St. Paul’s Cathedral, then all the way up to the outdoor Stone Gallery and the Gold Dome. There are great views of London from up there (a lot of cranes and new construction going on for a city that supposedly has a depressed economy – just like Chicago.)

St. Paul’s is also a functioning house of worship as well as a tourist attraction. It actually felt kind of disrespectful to me to be walking around looking at everything, but then again, they were charging us money to do exactly that. We did stop twice to join in when an Anglican priest took the pulpit and asked everyone to say “The Lord’s Prayer.”

Then it was on to Parliament (where protestors against the Iraq War had set up their signs directly across the street) and Westminster Abbey. It’s amazing to see such historic buildings in the middle of a modern, bustling city.




Later, at a bar in Westminster (The Red Lion), Gary and I talked about how you don’t really get a sense here in the city of how the ordinary people live. For that, you have to visit and talk to people outside of the city, and listen to the media. The things Britons currently seem to be worried about, judging from the TV and radio news shows we’ve listened to, are: the epidemic of recent murders which has led to talk of “knife control” laws (just like we Americans want gun control laws); the tax on cars the government wants to pass, supposedly for “environmental uses;” the 2 French students who were murdered late last month (by stabbing, of course; it’s the favorite murder weapon here since they don’t have guns); and the amount of rain they’ve been having this month (which I gather is unusual even by British standards).

On the whole, we’ve been lucky with the weather while we’ve been here (except for that one day at the Grand Prix). It’s rained every day we’ve been here, but it usually doesn’t last long. You’re fine as long as you bring your umbrella everywhere you go. It always clears up eventually, the sun comes out, and it’s very pleasant . . .

England and Scotland -- July 13

July 13
5:30 PM, Central Standard Time

Home again! The lawn needs mowing; Gary’s truck has a flat tire; and the dog got out once while we were gone. But all in all, everything’s fine and it’s good to be back.

We spent our last full day in England driving through some more pretty countryside
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to the Goodwood Festival of Speed in West Sussex. It’s a gathering of all kinds of vehicles (classic cars, Indy cars, motorcycles, etc.) for a race held on the 1.8-mile-long drive of Goodwood House, the estate of the Earl of March.





Gary was in heaven, of course, seeing so many trendy cars. We stayed there for most of the day. The weather was cool and overcast, but dry at least. We even managed to get a good spot at the Start Line for part of the race.

When we got back to London, we realized our hotel was less than a mile away from Buckingham Palace, so we drove on over. It was too late in the day to get tickets to tour the inside (and we were still tired from sight-seeing the day before), so we just took a drive-by picture. Besides, it’s probably like the White House, where you get to see the public rooms of the house and that’s it. It’s not like you’re actually going to meet the Queen or the President when you tour places like that.



We also did the last of our shopping at the Kings Mall in Hammersmith (much smaller than our American malls) and had drinks and dinner at our two favorite pubs in the Pimlico area. A nice way to end our vacation.

There were a lot of other places I would like to have seen that we didn’t have time for on this trip (Bath, York, Stratford, Stonehenge, etc.), but we definitely plan on coming back sometime . . .