Reflections

Oh dear, best of intentions have gotten me again. My month in England is over and where is my blog? Not feeling too guilty though as I did manage to post pix on Facebook with a little blurb here and there. Of course I do wish I'd kept up with impressions as each day ended, but I'm thinking since I've been here so many times over the years, there are few surprises and it's more like coming home for me. Anyway, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

So, maybe just a few things that struck me while I was here. Traveling on the tube frequently I did observe seats being given up much more often than ever in NY, including the months I was pregnant and on the NY subways. And, I definitely felt older here, for the first time, especially as a young woman gave her seat up for me (and I must say I took it gratefully after a day out and hour's ride home). My stamina just isn't what it used to be and although I had this huge itinerary with jam packed days, in the end my days looked pretty similar to what they do at home. Pokey mornings, with some time out, and early evenings.

I was touched by the number of men who seemed to be lunching with their elderly moms in department store cafes. It struck me as very sweet and tender. Guess that's a bit of identifying (20 or so years out anyway).

Vintage 60s is huge here which just made me feel I was in a time warp since that's the decade that started the adolescent me on my obsession with all things English. And yes, English boys are still just adorable.

Apparently I have an accent (who me?) and it generated numerous conversations, for which I was grateful. At some point I realized I was saying I was from NY when asked, and thought a bit about that. Surely if I'd been asked, "Where do you live" my answer would have been NC, but the question was always "Where are you from" and my automatic answer was "NY." Besides, on the occasion when further conversation revealed my current location, it wasn't surprising that people didn't know where NC is.

A month on your own can get a little lonely, so I have been exceedingly grateful for my host's cousin, friend and daughter, who each, in turn gave me great companionship and days/evenings out during this time. It was also very nice to be rescued from the efforts of public transportation-walking, buses, the tube-with car rides to Hampstead Heath, Hampstead Village, St. Albans and Finsbury.

So, tomorrow morning I say goodbye to England. I am very glad to have been able to spend this time here, and surprisingly happy to be going home. I think that's just right.

Random Thoughts and Impressions

My Sunday roast at The Woodman was absolutely scrumptious. It's beyond me how anyone can still levy that old criticism about British cooking, especially when I know I can get a decent vegetarian meal almost anywhere in England and yet in the US I'm lucky to find the unimaginative veggieburger on the menu. The vegetarian roast was a mushroom Wellington in a flaky puff pastry with tomato/chestnut sauce, roasted herb potatoes, parsnip puree, perfectly cooked medley of cauliflower/broccoli/peas and carrots, and a Yorkshire pudding. I will definitely be returning to try the other vegetarian options before heading home.

The local parks seem to be full of free-range dogs of every type. These happy little critters run to and fro with their legs pumping and tails wagging, sniffing everything in sight, splashing into the water's edge, chasing birds, and greeting each other and strollers with abandon. It amazes me to see them all getting along, never wandering too far from their people who call them back with a soft word. My experience with dogs in the States hasn't always been a happy one and it seems dogs in our parks are required to be restrained unless supervised at a special dog park or dog run. Even then, there often seems to be a fuss among the dogs. Are dogs in the UK trained differently? Is it that they are trained at all and we generally don't spend much time teaching our dogs manners?

When I first started visiting NC it took some adjusting to how friendly strangers are-people wave as you drive by, smile and nod or greet you as you pass on the sidewalk. These are not things you do in NY unless you know each other. Four years living in NC and I realize I have become one of those strangers who wave and greet people. However, that doesn't always translate very successfully here. Women have been more inclined to respond to my greeting than men, and I've gotten a few surprised smiles and a couple of brief exchanges. Walking through the park I've noticed people will engage when I comment on their dogs, and other 'dog people' acknowledge each other.

Overheard at a shop window, a 3-4 year old little girl's sing song voice, "Mummy, may I have a tutu please?"

I see my mom in so many faces here. Her pale grey/blue eyes, her light freckled skin. And I see my uncles in many of the men who pass me on the street. Maybe genetic memory is responsible for my strong attachment to England. While I always identify as a New Yorker (and so did Mom), I think my heart is in New York, but my soul is in England.

Settling In

It seems everyone I've spoken to who's flown over the past year has had particularly bad experiences, from lengthy delays to overnights spent on the floor of airports. Unfortunately mine can be added to the list. My flight from ILM to Charlotte was fine, but the connecting flight from Charlotte to London (only one flight a day) was delayed four times due to "mechanical issues." By the third delay I'd lost confidence and the desire to fly the US Air Airbus 330. The quandary then was whether to secure a seat on the flight for the following evening, with no idea where I would sleep for the night, or to wait for US Air to officially cancel the flight and issue hotel vouchers. The latter choice could result in chaos as travelers scrambled for a new booking and the vouchers.

My decision to wait secured vouchers for a meal, hotel room and $800 good for a year for another flight. So, I spent a night in a local hotel and caught the flight the next evening with virtually no hitches. Arrived pretty exhausted and a day late which has made the jet lag particularly bad, with interrupted sleep and late risings for three days. But, now I'm sorted and am making the most of beautiful warm days.

Since I'm relying on public transportation and my aging feet to get me everywhere I plan to go, my itinerary has already been adjusted with untenable two-hour commutes to a few places I'd hoped to see this trip. I'm pretty content to take local buses to nearby villages to explore, popping into old churches, shops, cafes and strolling through the ubiquitous parks.

My first visit to London was 43 years ago this month. It always amazes me to experience the same sensations each time I've visited, from the way the air smells (minus the coal from that first visit), to my delight in small differences (high doorknobs). But London, always a cosmopolitan city, no longer feels quintessentially English. It seems there are even more foreign accents here than in New York including Russian, Arabic, Japanese, Italian, German and French heard in this small northern borough.

Twice I've been in London during significant political events-the Good Friday Agreement of 1998 which ended 30 years of sectarian fighting in Northern Ireland; and an upcoming referendum on Scottish independence which could upturn the 307-year-old union with England. This week should prove to be pretty emotional for those on both sides of the issue.

But today, a sunny Sunday, I will put on a cute new top I bought at Pearson's Department Store in Enfield yesterday and stroll through Grovelands Park to watch children feed the ducks in the lake, after which I'll have dinner at The Woodman Pub.

The Carry-on

I've already been having anxiety about international travel, checking a bag, waiting at the luggage carousel, going through security and customs on either end. So, to expedite the process I thought I'd only bring a carry-on and a smaller second bag. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong.

An afternoon scrounging through the luggage departments of three local 'discount' stores yielded about six different sized rolling bags tagged 'carry-on'...now obviously they can't all be acceptable, so after comparing, measuring, cursing, I returned home empty handed. When I searched online I discovered that there are different regulations for domestic and international flights and even differences among carriers! And guidelines have been changed just this year to boot. How can you possibly choose? It seems a crap-shoot and that even if you buy what you think is within the guidelines, you may be pulled from the line and subjected to the dreaded baggage sizer; if the bag won't fit, you must check it.

Last year I spent an obscene amount of money on a feather-light Lipault bag to replace my 20 year old, heavy tapestry suitcase, but at 25", it must be checked. Hence my quest for a carry-on. When I was in England last fall I bought a sweet Cath Kidston bag and am hoping between that and a roller I won't need to check a bag this time around. Looking online I also ascertained that there are different 'generations' of bags that, for all intents and purposes, look identical. One must carefully scrutinize all options for the latest generation that will adhere to the latest, more rigid guidelines.

I had resigned myself to limiting my clothing to what would fit in a 24" bag and had nearly convinced myself it was feasible. Now I'm faced with the prospect of stuffing three pairs of shoes, five pairs of pants, five shirts, undies, pjs, socks, a hoodie, sundries and toiletries in a bag that measures 20"x9"x14". In the end I did order a bag online, but only because there was no tax, no shipping and no return shipping. I suspect upon its arrival I'll take one look at the meager interior and promptly stuff it back in its returnable box. At least I'll know it will fit in that.

An Offer I Can't Refuse

An English friend has made a ridiculously generous offer I can't refuse. I can stay in her London home while she's here in the States. The possibility of months with a British postcode makes me blind with joy. But, and isn't there always a but, reality slams me as I can't possibly leave my three indoor cats for such an extended time.

Non cat people don't know how attached cats are to their people-never mind how attached we are to them. They don't like change (hmmm, have an ex like that) and much prefer to be in familiar surroundings following a routine-the basic eat, nap, eat, nap, get into mischief, nap, eat regimen to which most cats adhere. Unless I can find a dependable live-in pet sitter, I must cobble together care relying on friends, other cat fanciers, and some paid help. The longest the boys have been left on their own were three weeks and that was only due to an unexpected stay in a hospital during a visit back home (which will be New York till my dying breath, regardless of where I live). Yes, they survived, but it was a difficult re-entry for us all.

So, I began to try on lengths of travel to the UK starting with eight weeks. The trip was whittled away week by week until I comfortably settled on five weeks, but when the time came to click that "confirm" button for my flights, four weeks was what I managed. Four weeks. Still, it will be my longest time in the UK on a single trip, ever. By my second week of fantasizing I knew there won't be time even in a month to visit Cornwall, Wales, Liverpool, Manchester, Ireland or Scotland-all on my bucket list. Forget about taking the Chunnel to Paris or Bruges for a few days.

I've started a "note" and add to it every time I think of a pub, shop, town, restaurant, museum, park, bakery, market I want to revisit or see for the first time. Seven weeks out from my trip and I've already accumulated about 36 items on my list, many of them day trips out from London, and possibly a few overnights. Clearly I won't be able to do all these 'local' things, even in a month. But, here's one-the Grenadier Pub.