Today we got up early so that I could go to a half-day hands-on demonstration at Falconry UK while my mother browsed through Thirsk.
I didn’t take my camera because I didn’t want to haul it around and then discover I wouldn’t have a chance to take photos. ‘Hands-on’ implied to me that I wouldn’t.
And sometimes you just want to DO something without framing it through a viewfinder.… >> Read more
I am not ever going to get tired of this view.
When I asked during breakfast yesterday if the B&B owner ever had black pudding, she said, ‘I’ve never made it. In fact I’ve never had any. Didn’t like the look of it.’ Then, sweetheart that she is, she bought some for us, and oh do I love that stuff.
Unfortunately it doesn’t love me.… >> Read more
My mental image of Yorkshire weather is formed by James Herriot and the Brontës and, in March anyway, it involves mist, rain, cold, maybe snow, and very possibly some wuthering winds. When I packed, I brought long-sleeved sweaters and a parka vest. I have long underwear. I have scarves.
Today I wore a T-shirt.
And if I hadn’t been riding a horse in the afternoon, I would have worn a sundress and sandals.… >> Read more
Actually, farewell dear lasagna is right enough. Not that I can eat lasagna myself (nix on the noodles) but in order to keep my computer happy I fed it frozen lasagna every evening. At home I feed it cold packs, but when traveling you have to make do with what you have.
Thankfully it’s not picky and it was willing to eat the same lasagna night after night.… >> Read more
Our train got in at 10:30 last night so I went to bed late (1:00ish I think), which was a bit unfortunate as the smoke alarm went off at what my watch told me was 9:30 in the morning.
It is a feature of my relationship with smoke alarms that my first thought upon awakening was not ‘Oh God where’s the fire?!’ but ‘Fer chrissake where’s a chair so I can turn that damn thing off.’
This is a thought that has not failed me yet; there was, needless to say, no fire.… >> Read more
My absolute favorite line.
Doctor Who day!
I confess I didn’t dress up. Unless you count my long, fuzzy, red-white-and-black striped scarf, but I wear that all the time, so as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t count as a costume. (Your opinion may differ.)
The crowd growing at the Millennium Centre.
I was disappointed to see that not many other people dressed up either.… >> Read more
Departing London Paddington. That wasn’t
After only the usual amount of difficulty (street entrances to station closed; delays on the underground track; not knowing how to use the train tickets because we weren’t given printable tickets – just a confirmation number; walking towards the wrong train because for thirty foolish seconds I trusted my mother’s intuition rather than actual data) we made it to Cardiff.… >> Read more
There was a small, polite, very British sign on Dickens’ desk that said PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH; but sometimes one has to embrace one’s stereotypes, so in full knowledge of my crime I reached out and gave it a good rub. I’m American, we’re uncouth. Right?
Also, it’s Dickens’ own bloody desk. Where he wrote his last paragraphs of Edwin Drood.… >> Read more