The Last of the Trip - Bristol, Cheddar, and Abergavveny

After Stonehenge we drove back to Clevedon, where we took a longish walk around town in search of Chinese takeaway. We passed a much needed restive evening, watching TV, eating Chinese, and reading books. I also briefly met up with my friend Zina, who lives in Clevedon, and we made plans to meet in Bristol the following day.

In Bristol we were able to take advantage of the Park & Ride, thus saving my sanity. Zina was a wonderful host and took us all over the city, and we even managed to see Georgian House, which is one of the few tourist sites in Bristol I hadn’t seen before. Mum & John were fairly tired of museums and historic houses by this time so they mostly sat and enjoyed the outdoor scenery whilst the three of us explored. Dad had really wanted to go see the house of a Brethren preacher who used to live there, but we deemed it too far out of town and instead Zina took us to see John Wesley’s chapel and lodgings. We arrived near closing time but the staff were incredibly kind to us and delayed their closing so that we could explore the building. Dad enjoyed wandering around the chapel so much that he neglected to see Wesley’s private rooms on the top floor, and I had to drag him up there and literally push him around so that he could see the most important sites before they locked up. He is very meticulous when it comes to reading every bit of explanatory text on walls, but I think he forgave me for propelling him along when I announced “and this was Wesley’s bed”. Like a pilgrim to a holy relic went my father, and he not even a Methodist!

Following our tour of Bristol we had a really late lunch at a delightful Italian restaurant which Zina led us to. It is one of those treasures that only locals know about, little hole-in-the-walls with incredible food. We sat in the upper room, which had a giant mural of Padre Pio on one wall, and feasted on pasta, pizza, and garlic bread. I think even mum was glad of the Italian meal, as we had kind of reached the limit on how much pub food we could stomach. We had a great time visiting, and I was really happy that my family could meet one of my English friends.

The next day was the last day of our UK tour. We managed to squeeze in three different cities, and two different countries! First, we went to the village of Cheddar, where cheddar cheese originates. The village is located in Cheddar Gorge and its cliffs are full of caves, making the village a popular choice for both cheese lovers and spelunkers. We fell into the first category, which meant we spent the early afternoon touring the cheese factory, sampling cheese (and Somerset scrumpy), buying cheese (and scrumpy), and eventually eating lunch. I think we eventually walked away with 6 different types of cheese (vintage cheddar, two garlic & herb cheddars, ewe’s milk cheese, Somerset brie, and jalapeno cheddar), roasted pepper spread, pork scratchings, and two jugs of scrumpy (medium & sweet). After a cheesy lunch of paninis at the Cheddar Costa Coffee, we started our search for the Bristol Blue Glass Factory.

The BBG is located off a little strip of highway just outside Bristol. It took us so long to find that we couldn’t stay for more than thirty minutes, but it was long enough to watch the guys in the workshop make a glass jug, which was fascinating (I love watching glass blowers). We then plundered the gift shop, and I was pleased to see that their prices were equal to what we’d paid the day before in the city for my blue glass cat. 

We decided to drive to Wales for supper, in part because we wanted to see Wales and in part because there is something delightfully glamorous about driving to a new country just to have a meal. Zina had recommended a trip to Abergavveny, and so we decided to take our evening excursion there. Upon arriving in Abergavveny, we promptly located the castle ruins and spent a good fourty-five minutes clambering over the broken stone. The setting was beautiful, especially in the places where we could look through the crumbling casements and into the green Welsh hills. The first rain of our trip came just as we were leaving our last tourist spot, which is certainly miraculous for the UK. 

On Saturday morning we drove back to Cambridge, leaving early so that we could arrive in good time for the John Cleese performance that night. The show was hilarious, there was ice cream at intermission, and dad managed to stay awake for the whole performance. We were all happy to have been able to see the comedic legend in the flesh. Then there was the vacation denouement. I went back to work, my family took a few day trips, and all too soon it was our last day together. David took us for a last tour of Cambridge, including a punt ride on the river which left John terrified. We finished the night by celebrating John’s birthday, and feeding him lots of Baileys as compensation for his terror of small boats/dirty rivers. 

It was a whirlwind tour, but it was so amazing to be able to see the United Kingdom with my family, especially when I think back to the days when we could barely afford a trip camping in Qualicum. 

Stonehenge

The day we left Scotland we were off to a rocky start. John developed some sort of ear infection overnight and we spent the better part of the day a) trying to locate the Stirling A&E and then b) waiting to be discharged from the Stirling A&E. Eventually we got some drugs for him and were able to hit the road. Looking back there is definitely space to be grateful: for one, because we were at an emergency ward we didn’t have to pay for his drugs or doctor’s visit, and for another, we had no sightseeing planned for that day. Although we had a long drive from Edinburgh to Bristol it wasn’t *too* long.

Watching the landscape change on the drive was interesting, as it always is with long drives. There was lush greenery in Scotland, and then a seemingly barren dessert as we passed by Manchester, and finally a hint of water as we drew near Bristol. We arrived quite late at our Victorian hotel in Clevedon and, to be honest, I cannot remember much after we arrived, other than my & John’s luck in finding ourselves in a ridiculously giant room that had a double bed (for John) and a queen sized bed (for me). We didn’t have a view of the water, like our parents did, but our room was about three times bigger so we didn’t mind.

A lot was improved by morning, especially since John was feeling better. Since we had spent the previous day driving, I didn’t fancy spending a lot of time on the road. So we decided to drive to Stonehenge and spend an easy day exploring one of the wonders of the world.

The drive was going well, and our map (for once) made sense, when I noticed we had zoomed by our turn. After some navigating we located our ‘road’ again, although I was a little concerned that it wasn’t well marked on our road atlas. Nevertheless, that was the road stated in our directions so we took it, and there passed the most harrowing hour of my life. It was one of those delightful English country lanes, wide enough for 1.5 cars but accepting two-way traffic. It was full of curves and high hedges, which meant we couldn’t see the oncoming traffic. The ‘shoulder’ was pitted with potholes, and once when we pulled over to let an oncoming car pass it sounded like the car had gotten stuck in a hole. My cell phone wasn’t working and the road was just quiet enough that if we got stuck we could be waiting for awhile. And, if all this wasn’t harrowing enough, every so often a giant truck would come speeding around the corner. Mum was sure glad that her car mirrors could flatten against the car sides at the press of a button!

When we finally emerged on the other side I was quite shaky. Dad and John, of course, had spent most of that drive sleeping and were now wide awake and bothering me with questions. Juggling our map and our road atlas we tried to place ourselves in relation to Stonehenge. We were arguing over where our next turn was when I looked up and saw IT—on a strip of plain between two highways, the ancient stones stood in their solemn circle. I exclaimed, John shouted, we both started yelling to mum “go right, go right” and miraculously she found her road and with little fuss we arrived in the parking lot.

We had lunch in a picnic area just outside of the Stonehenge entrance, and then it was time to pay our fee and explore the stones. Going there was an incredibly moving experience for all of us. We spent a good hour or so walking around, listening to the audio tour, and marvelling that we were actually there. One of my favourite pictures from the day is one of mum sitting on a bench, sheep grazing behind her on the plain, and a dreamy look on her face as she sits looking at Stonehenge and the Salisbury Plain. It sums up the magic of the day.

It is so difficult to write about what we experienced. In one sense, it is a big circle of rocks and all the pictures and all the words you use just keep reiterating that point. On the other, it is so much larger than all that, and has inspired whole novels. How do you even begin to blog about that? I could have just sat and looked forever, letting my mind wander down imaginative twists and turns. So, slowly, we walked counter clockwise around the stones, and then found ourselves at the exit, pausing for one last look. 

Getting in touch with our Scottish Roots

When morning dawned in Scotland the whole situation seemed a lot brighter. We soon packed up the car and were ready to drive into Edinburgh. We had been debating driving vs taking the train in from Falkirk, where our hotel was, and thanks to some happy accidents we eventually ended up at a Park and Ride not too far from Edinburgh. It saved our sanity and sold us on the idea for the rest of our trip, when possible. 

As soon as we boarded the bus we began indulging in a recurring theme of I LOVE SCOTLAND. I was won over by the fact that the bus had plaid upholstery. We knew where to get off the bus because we spotted Edinburgh Castle atop its mountainous hill. We were all struck by the beauty of the landscape, with famous monuments rising up here and there and lush green park in the valley below the castle. A quick discussion had us heading for the castle, and being sensible folk we decided to take the most direct route—namely to scale the giant hill rather than walk ‘round for an easier incline. 

The castle was certainly worth the entrance fee. We ended up spending most of Sunday exploring it—it has a myriad of museums, gift shops, and memorials. The view was also incredible. There was something that met with each of our interests. I got to walk through rooms where Mary Queen of Scots walked, and stand in the chamber where James I was born. We saw the crown jewels of Scotland, and we saw numerous exhibits & monuments to Scotland’s military past. Dad & John kept trying to point out the Firth of Forth from every rampart we passed. The gift shops made a fortune off of us that day, especially once mum found the ‘Mitchell’ branded items. I have always felt a stronger connection to my Slavic roots than any pretence of British ones, so I did not walk away with ten million ‘Mitchell’ items, but I did fall prey to a few choice pieces depicting the scotch thistle. 

We left the castle in the late afternoon and began our walk down the Royal Mile, pausing every few meters to look in shops in hopes of finding Mitchell tartan fabric. Our search was relatively unfruitful, tempers were getting short, and so we decided to call it quits and instead went in search of a late afternoon lunch of haggis. And, because natives always do it best, the haggis was the best any of us had ever tasted. We also introduced dad to the world of British meat pies, which fostered a meat-pie addiction that lasted up until he went back to Canada. 

We stayed in the pub until early evening, at which point we emerged in hopes of finding some sort of Sunday service. We had passed by a church when we arrived in town that morning and noticed that they had an evening service, so we retraced our steps and joined with a small Church of Scotland congregation for our Sunday worship. Presbyterian churches are not frequented by any of us, so I sat in happy surprise at the beauty of the words of the liturgy, and my parents seemed pleased that it was a communion Sunday so they were able to partake in that (I will say this for the Baptists tho—at least they cube their bread. When the pastor elevated a crustless slice of wonderbread I had to choke back a laugh. I meant no disrespect, but really...). After church we wandered back towards the center of town in search of our bus, which led us past the Sir Walter Scott memorial and meant one happy father & daughter. 

On our second day in Edinburgh we walked the length of the Royal Mile, down to Holyrood House (the Queen’s residence in Scotland) at its other end. We stopped in ten million shops along the way, each looking for a bit of Scottish cloth to take away. We also discovered some delicious local fudge and various shops selling whiskey. I eventually dragged everyone off to the museum, where dad & I wandered among the ancient, Medieval, and Stuart exhibits while mum & John read. Then, in a search for lunch, we found the cafe where J.K. Rowling did some writing. The menu didn’t suit us, however, and the day was getting late. So we split up with plans to reconvene at a pub. Mum and John went to look at swords whilst dad & I went down a little alley and found the Writer’s Museum.

The Writer’s Museum is, as its name suggests, dedicated to famous Scottish authors. We began in the basement, which housed a number of effects belonging to Stevenson. Then we went up to the top, where the printing press that printed some of Scott’s novels is held. After that we wandered among the personal & literary effects of Burns, Scott, and Hume. It was awesome. Unfortunately we weren’t allowed to take pictures. 

When we finished at the Writer’s Museum we wandered to the pub, where we found John in a very good mood as he had just acquired a new short sword. Mum had her last taste of haggis, dad made another foray into the world of meat pies, and then it was time to go. We hit the shops one last time, to ensure that we had left no blanket unturned in our quest for souvenirs. In the end, John and I both walked away with 100% highland wool blankets (Stuart for me & McKenzie for him), Mum got a wonderfully soft cashmere blanket, and dad got a white & black plaid cap. As we set off for the bus we ran into my friend Dr Andrew Simpson, of the University of Aberdeen. I confess that I found it more than a little amusing that I ran into the one Scottish friend I have on the streets of Edinburgh!

To finish off our time in Scotland we thought we would drive to the Firth of Forth. Finding a place to park proved a little difficult, as there seemed to be no clear direction to the water. Eventually we found a Tesco’s, and after buying some provisions for the evening meal were able to get directions to the water from one of the cashiers. The sun was just beginning to set as we strolled out along the dock, and I kept warm by putting my new blanket to good use. The wool really does keep out the chill! After a bit of a stroll we decided to head back to Falkirk, but on the way we noticed signs declaring “Blackness Castle”. Seeing another castle was too good an opportunity to pass up, so we took a detour and found ourselves in a beautiful setting.

The castle was perched above the sea, and the sun was still setting as we arrived, making for some beautiful pictures. The wind was just right. Although the castle was certainly more fortress than fairytale, it proved a beautiful walk and a fitting end to our Scottish adventure.

In which the Wiebes travel through Yorkshire

On Friday morning I woke everyone up and we hit the road. I was feeling really nervous about the driving as there are just enough differences over here to make things complicated. The lack of road signs and the profusion of roundabouts are enough to drive anyone batty! We did not have a GPS so we had to rely on google map printouts and, eventually, a road atlas. Fortunately I've been in and out of Cambridge often enough that I could get us onto the highway. After that it was a series of skill, mishaps, happy accidents, and good fortune.

 
Being adventurous North Americans, we went North. We had booked ourselves into an old spa hotel in Ripon, North Yorkshire, for the night. I'm not sure how many miles the drive was, but with our sightseeing detours we got there about 11 hours after we left Cambridge (I think it's a four or five hour drive). Sightseeing along the way was great fun. At first it was a bit of a dull drive for me, because I've been in the Cambridge countryside often enough. Then came some subtle changes, and then the next thing we knew we were surrounded by the rolling hills of Yorkshire, all the fields separated by stone fences. We stopped for lunch at a country pub, and were pleased to see wedding coverage on a flat screen and a group of mellow, bank-holiday enjoying locals. After some nourishing homemade soup and meatloaf sandwiches it was back on the road, stopping every now and then to enjoy the view and trying, mostly without success, to take pictures of the rapeseed fields from the car. 

John & I with a pile of kegs outside a Yorkshire pub

We then drove to the parsonage where the Brontë sisters lived. Dad and I spent a magical hour touring the house and grounds and enjoying all things Brontë. The museum staff were not very friendly but it didn't matter. I got shivers when I saw the room where the sisters wrote their novels. It was incredible. I even managed to pick up a lovely print of the parsonage in the gift shop.

The church beside the parsonage

Rolling Yorkshire hills--"just like in a James Herriot book"

From West Yorkshire we drove to North Yorkshire, and I led my family into a detour in order to see medieval Selby Abbey. We parked at a pub and it seemed that the whole town was there, celebrating the wedding bank holiday. The wedding highlights were being played and so we finally got to see our first glimpse of the Duchess of Cambridge's wedding gown (beautiful). Then we toured the outside of the abbey. I loved all the gargoyles that peered down on us from all angles, while John seemed to really enjoy reading the old tombstones. Leaving Selby, we continued north to the great city of York itself.

York certainly compares, if not exceeds, Cambridge in beauty. We parked by a castle ruin and from the minute I saw the ruin I fell in love with the city. It was so beautiful. So we explored the castle first and then wandered into town in search of yorkshire puddings. We managed to find a carvery where we got to pick the meat of our choice, help ourselves buffet-style to all the trimmings, and eat delicious homemade yorkshire puddings. John and I tried bread-sauce for the first time and deemed it delicious. Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the restaurant and set off in search of York Minster Cathedral. It was too late in the day to go inside, but we were able to wander around the outside of it and marvel at its size and beauty. As we wandered we came upon surprise after surprise. First, there was a statue commemorating the occasion (and spot) of where Constantine was proclaimed Emperor. Next, there was an old Roman column raised to the sky. Then there were various bits of Christian lore commemorating on plaques around the Minster and surrounding buildings, telling of things that were at least quite meaningful to dad. We also saw the church where Guy Fawkes was baptised. 

Me, Dad, & Constantine

From York we drove north west to the smallish town of Ripon. It was dark when we arrived, we took a wrong turn, John hopped out to find a city map to guide us back, and then the next thing we knew we were heading the wrong way down a one way street, the lights of an oncoming car coming towards us. Out of the gloom appeared a boisterous Yorkshireman, who (with many shouts of encouragement to "mind the bollards") guided us back to safety and towards our hotel.

 
The hotel was a lovely old spa hotel, with high ceilings and quaint rooms. John and I had a spacious room with two twin beds, and because of this my parents decided to make it base camp. We spent the evening watching Royal Wedding highlights, drinking hot cocoa, and eating shortbread. The next morning we set hit the road again. After our harrowing trip down the wrong street in Ripon the night before, I was not particularly pro "lets drive around and find a pub for breakfast". My instincts were rather justified in this case, but only because the only pub we managed to find serving breakfast the morning after a bank holiday was a seedy little place offering suspiciously inexpensive full English breakfasts. As the woman behind the counter impressed upon us many times, it was her "first day" and she seemed to also be doing the cooking, and would we not mind waiting, etc. We said an anxious prayer to ward off food poisoning when our meals finally did arrive, and a slight queasiness (caused by the black pudding, no doubt) was the only ill effect I experienced. The others had been wise and avoided the pudding.

 
From Ripon we drove to Thirsk, the home of James Herriot. John, who has never read the books, took a long nap in the car whilst I toured "The World of James Herriot" with my parents. Seeing them in the homes of one of their favourite authors was like watching two kids loose in a candy store. They scampered about the rooms, clamouring over each other in order to point out various pieces they recognised from the books. When we went into the garden, where his car was parked, dad practically ran over to it shouting all the while "this is his car! this is HIS CAR!!! JUST LIKE IN THE BOOKS!" and regaling me with stories of the car. I felt I got my money's worth just by watching the two of them. 

They both were really excited about the sampler on the wall.

From Thirsk we headed West, in search of Hadrian's Wall. We drove for a good long time trying to find the wall, with no success. We saw a lot of stone walls, but they seemed to belong to Yorkshire famers. Every once in awhile we would stumble across a parking lot with a sign proclaiming that something Roman was there, but still no wall. We thought we saw it once, but there was nowhere to pull over. We stopped at a pub to regroup and, looking at our trusty road atlas, saw that there was one more Roman sounding attraction off our road before we reached the turn to Scotland. We decided to try that last attraction, and as we drove up the road we saw IT. Hadrian's Wall, complete with an old Roman gatehouse foundation. Mum was now used to the UK habit of pulling over wherever and abandoning the car, so we did just that. Then, hey presto, the four of us were clambering through some farmer's field and heading towards the wall. To stand where the Romans stood was a very moving experience for me, almost religious in feeling.

Standing on some gatehouse ruins at the wall

 We left John to scale a Yorkshire hill whilst we turned the car around, and then we picked him up and drove on toward Scotland. En route we stopped at an incredible pub for supper. It was just off the highway but they served the most amazing, home cooked meals. One of the gems of this trip was locating fantastic eateries while driving. Much different from our trip to America.

As we drove into Scotland we noticed that the sun refused to set. It was well after ten o'clock before we were driving in darkness. As it happened, we drove and drove in darkness for at least an hour, because our map led us astray and even though we could see it from the highway we were unable to find an exit off the highway and into our hotel. This was the most frustrating part of the trip. I was exhausted, it was dark, and we could see our hotel without being able to get into it. Finally mum took a chance exit off a roundabout and the next thing we knew we were parked at the Travelodge Falkirk. Further disappointment followed as my eyes adjusted to the minimalist decor after the glories of our spa hotel, and to top it off the bathroom light flickered like we were in a disco. The guy behind the front desk seemed to live to lecture, and the only saving grace of the whole evening was that my cell phone was working and I could call David. Actually, another saving grace is that my brother is a good sport and took the horrible little sofa bed, leaving me a double bed all to myself.

Mint Syrup

Our little indoor garden is flourishing. The amount of money we've saved by eating onion greens, parsley, and chillies from the garden instead fo buying them at the store will pay for the whole garden over the course of the year. We had our first 'harvest' a few weeks ago when our mint & basil mint required cutting back. I dutifully stripped the plants of their leaves and then simmered them with water & sugar (2 scant cups sugar, 1c water, 1 packed cup mint) until the sugar was disolved and the mint wilted. Then I strained it into a delightfuly old-fashioned [sterilized] cordial bottle and voila, mint syrup. In answer to the question "ok, but what do you do with the mint syrup", we used our first batch up in cocktails. It goes great in Jamaican rum punch (kind of like a mojito) and also makes a refreshing mint soda (syrup, soda water, and a splash or two of citrus). I think it could also be used over summer berries or in fruit salad, but the rum punch was popular enough that it didn't make it that long:

End of Lent & Easter

After our weekend in Bristol, David resumed his crazy work schedule and I began preparing in earnest for my family's visit and Easter. The weeks flew by, as work was busy and the evenings were filled with spring cleaning (for me) and research (for David). Needing a break and an excuse to enjoy the spring sunshine we managed an afternoon away in the fens one weekend. We walked to Fen Ditton, picnicking on the way (cocktail sausages & boiled quail eggs ftw), shared a jug of Pimms at The Plough, and spent time searching for broken bits of pottery & stone facades in a plowed field. We also found a ditch that ran off from the river, and as we walked along it the rustling noises alerted us to the presence of wildlife. We were expecting birds but after no few moments of watching discovered that the noises were being made by water rats (water voles to be more accurate)! We had a nice Wind in the Willows moment and stayed to watch them for a bit, then went home and googled pictures of them to confirm that they are much cuter than regular rats.

delicious picnic lunch

old graves at St Mary's, Fen Ditton

The overall grind of work meant a busier end to Lent than I like, with little time left for meditation. We found an escape to this predicament by attending a penitential service at Our Lady and the English Martyrs. This year I am learning the benefit of actually scheduling time for retreats. By pencilling in time for contemplation and by going out of the house on a retreat it is harder to become distracted. It was a peaceful evening and I could approach Easter with a proper spirit.

 
After the calm, the storm. Or, if not quite a storm, a last bit of flurry of work and then suddenly it was Maundy Thursday and we were at Mass. Meanwhile my family were somewhere in the air over North America. That night I broke one of our house rules and took the 'phone into the bedroom and left the ringer on. 7:30am and the phone rang: "I kept waiting but I couldn't contain myself any longer. WE'RE IN LONDON! Bus is leaving in 20 minutes". A long few hours later my family arrived. Mum unloaded plunderous treats from Canada, namely cheezies and BBQ sauce. Then Dave & I dragged dad off to the Good Friday service while the others napped. In the evening we took them to their first (of many) English pub dinners at the Mitre, followed by The Hobbit. Jet lag claimed them all by intermission and only dad remained to catch the last acts of the play, which he mostly slept through.

 
On Holy Saturday I took everyone into town to go exploring/shopping. We had a great time and in the evening we had our traditional Easter weekend dinner of pseudo-Mennonite food. There was no Easter Vigil at our church this year as, for some reason, neither Queens nor Caius wanted us to light a fire in the courtyard. On Sunday we went to the Easter service at Fisher House: Queens and then enjoyed a warm, sunny walk around Cambridge and back home. Mum and I spent the afternoon making Easter dinner. It was so great to have a mum-cooked meal this holiday! I had purchased a free range turkey from the butchers and it was definitely the best turkey we've ever had. I had also tried my hand at making paska in my bread machine. The result wasn't as good as regular paska but it went down well with the boys at any rate. We were joined by our friend Mike, who had flown into Cambridge that day from Colorado. I was impressed that he managed to fight off jetlag long enough to have supper with us. He came bearing butterfinger chocolate bars and American BBQ sauce, making me one happy lady. It was such a lovely Easter, and it was so great to be together as a family for it. 

first taste of Cornish pasties

Easter Sunday on the Cam

On Monday I took my family to London for their first tourist excursion. We spent the majority of the day at the London Zoo. I was worried it would fall short compared to the San Diego Zoo but it most certainly held its own. For one thing, they have a recreated coral reef in their aquarium section. It was so beautiful. The second amazing bit was that in several parts in the Zoo you can actually go into the animal enclosures. I had read an article a few months back about monkeys at the Zoo stealing people's sun glasses, and I'd just assumed that this was from tourists standing too close to the bars. But I soon learned that it's because you can get within petting (more accurately, biting) distance of the monkeys! It was the same with birds and butterflies. It was amazing to be able to walk with the animals, and in John's case, talk with the animals. We also managed to catch the show at the steam clock, and being England we got our lunch from a fish & chip stand in the Zoo. It was such an awesome experience. 

   

After the hours we spent at the Zoo we decided to cancel any other attractions. We had a lovely walk across Regent's Park and then took the tube down to Westminster where we got out and shared our first looks at Big Ben, Parliament, and Westminster Abbey. It was crazy busy around the Abbey, as the Royal Wedding was taking place that Friday, but we prowled around the gates of parliament and mum got all teary-eyed and exuded a lot of "I'm in a foreign country with my family and it's AMAZING". Up until a year or so ago I don't think we ever thought we'd stand by Westminster, looking at Big Ben and the Thames as a family, so it was certainly an incredible moment.

Regents Park

The Thames

Big Ben

I spent the rest of that week working, while my family made a trip to Ely and another back down to London. On their trip to London they saw All's Well that Ends Well at Shakespeare's Globe, and I am convinced that there is some sort of magic in the air around the Globe because they actually enjoyed the play! Dad likes Shakespeare, but in my experience mum & John don't normally find his plays very thrilling. They also went to Abbey Road and the Royal British Museum in order to see the Rosetta Stone. Then on Thursday they headed out to Histon to pick up the rental car and learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road. Mum only had until the following morning to learn a new car and a new way to drive, because Friday morning we took off on our grand adventure.