About those Christmas cards

The Christmas card I had printed was a surprise when it arrived; it was much larger that I had envisioned. In fact, it was enormous. Special envelope...probably extra postage. The photo on the front was one of Allen Ray & me on the Blue Ridge Parkway, taken last fall when we were there with Sadie Kay and Ray Crumbley. It's a nice photo. In the past I have used photos of us with the grandchildren or the grandchildren alone. This year it's just Allen & me because that is who lives here. Maybe it was the size of the card, maybe it was because it was just the two of us, but I was suddenly struck with the fact that the Christmas card said nothing about the purpose of the holiday. It is Jesus' birth. The only hint of the "reason for the season" was Christ-mas. Is that enough?

For many years I sent only religious themed cards--never a Santa Clause in the greeting. Then one year I found a really cute card with a little mouse who was mixing up some Christmas cookies. I guess on the night before Christmas someone WAS stirring! I moved on to pictures of the grandchildren on the front of the card. My family would enjoy seeing how the kids had grown over the year. But the card I sent this year seems to be totally divorced from the "God became man" core of the holiday.

I hesitated to write about this subject. I get many cards from friends with pictures of themselves and their children. I enjoy seeing and displaying them, but has this become a distraction from the true meaning of Christmas? We have so many distractions to keep us from time alone with God. So many things we must do, many things we do to entertain ourselves. Before we realize it the day is gone, we are sleepy and we have no time left for anything. The day has been empty of spiritual food.

The cards are finished. Allen will mail them for me today. I'm not sure what I will do next year, but I know the card will not be like the gigantic one I sent this year. Maybe I'll write a poem for the card. (or not! I'm terrible at writing poetry!) Maybe I'll put a small picture of us on it. I'm going to want to celebrate the birth of the Savior God sent to earth that long, long ago.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Peggie Groves, my neighbor and best childhood friend.

Swinging on monkey vines in the woods at the end of the street. Damming up the little spring fed stream then watching the destruction as we let go the waters of our tiny lake.  Hours and hours playing our new Monopoly game on the dining room table. I stepped back in time into the today. I spent the day with my childhood friend Peggie Groves who recently moved to Ellenton, Florida.

Once I went away to college I did not often go back to Crucible, Pennsylvania where I grew up. Last year I went to the 50th anniversary of my graduating from Carmichaels Area High School. I realized then how much I had forgotten in the last 50 years. I tried to waken my memory by writing about the things I did remember. I talked with my siblings. I got out taped recordings of interviews with siblings who have, to use the Southern expression, "passed on." The more I look back, the more I remember.

Talking with Peggie today I heard again the music of the names of the families who lived in Crucible: Descutner, Patterson, Miller, Grimes, Sergiovani, Kawalski. So many of the names ended with ski that I felt like my plain ole Huntley name was boring, unimportant. My favorite Italian was the grammar school bus driver, Romeo Palone who expected a kiss on his cheek as we boarded the bus each morning. Nothing like that is possible today, but he was wonderful and made us all safe. Those were the good ole days when a child could ride the school bus and not worry about being beaten up or threatened with a knife.

I love the sounds of those names. Serbian, Italian, Irish, Polish, Slovakian, Dutch. These men came to work in the coal mines. A good day's wages for a good day's work. It was a tiny town, but its diversity of ethnic groups was amazing. There was unity of purpose in the workday, but there was also separation. The company built houses for workers to rent called The Patch and each nationality had its own section. The groups hung on to their native language, but they learned English, too. The influence of many cultures on the area is amazing. Germans in Pittsburgh gave us Heinz catsup and dill pickles. Wives shared recipes hullopkis (cabbage rolls), nut rolls, and all kinds of ways to make jello. Most of the wives made bread at home without the aid of a bread machine. Irish soda bread, yeast bread, biscuits, and for breakfast, buckwheat pancakes dripping with butter and sweet syrup.

I've probably spelled heaps of things wrong in this post. I don't remember how to spell all those lovely immigrant names, but I love what they brought to my little coal mining town of Crucible, Pennsylvania.

Now that she is forty

Cammie 'n Chris' Wedding Day

Cammie was born on September 29, 1974. Of my three children she was the most difficult to bring into the world. I labored for twenty-four hours before she came hollering into the world.  But I did not care about the pain, God had given me a baby girl. After the much easer births of David and Jonathan, the exquisite pain was a surprise. The joys that came later were just as amazing. 

My mother taught me to sew when I was about twelve years old. It was a skill I needed, too because Allen and I were so poor when we first got married. I got pregnant very soon after the marriage certificate was signed. Married November 22, 1967, first baby boy born August 25, 1968, David Wroyston. My quickly expanding waistline required new clothing and we could not afford a whole new wardrobe. I was working in a Head Start program and had to have maternity outfits to accommodate my growing belly. Allen purchased for me a Singer sewing machine in the most popular color, light blue. Back then fabric and patterns were not as expensive as they are now and I was able to make all the clothes I needed for my job and for my new position in life--an expectant mother.

Jonathan was born two years later, in 1970 and I had lots of fun making matching blazers for him and David when they were just toddlers. The jackets even had fancy insignias sewn on to the breast pockets. I have photographs of them smiling into the camera, all dressed up for church. 

When Cammie arrived I was eager to get out the Singer sewing machine and make some pretty little things for my infant daughter. Making girls' clothes is much more fun than making coats for little boys. Before she was born I made diminutive t shirt type garments with a drawstring closure on the bottom to keep Baby from kicking off the covers and getting her tiny legs cold. Later came romper suits in all sorts of bright colors and patterns. My favorite pattern was one that crisscrossed  in the back and buttoned on the shoulders. The back was open and showed off matching bloomers.

By the time Cammie was a toddler we were living in Lakeland and I was teaching High School English. I would often take her with me to basket ball or baseball games. Friends from that time  still remember that beautiful little three-year-old with softly curling blond hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a fearless drive to know everything about the world she inhabited.  She was a delight!

And still is. 

In the Land of Plenty

I just got back from spending four days in Pennsylvania with my brother, David and his companion, Peggy. Our sister, Elaine was also there. I went to help with harvesting and canning the produce of his garden and fruit trees. What delights awaited me there! Hungry? Want some lunch? Just walk out to the garden and pick some corn, a few ripe tomatoes, some squash and a small bowlful of green beans. On your way back to the cabin, snag a few of the red raspberries and pop them into your mouth. MMMMM!

When I first arrived David and Peggy showed me around the garden. My favorite part was the bean house. This was a loose, open structure made from ten foot tall stalks of bamboo. The bean vine grew up the walls of the "house" with the bean pods hanging down within in easy reach of the harvester. Double fencing surrounded the bean vines to keep out the deer, abundant in that part of western Pennsylvania. When the beans are ripe they are black. The original beans for this year's crop came from Native American Indians who were friends and working associates of Peggy's a few years back .

We processed about one and a half bushels of tomatoes. We canned tomato juice, some whole tomatoes and several jars of salsa made entirely of ingredients from the garden. One machine was indispensable to our work: the Squeezo. Peggy inherited this piece of equipment from her mother. On the top sits a hopper and a wooden mallet is used to push the fruit or vegetable down against the grinder. The handle is hand cranked--woman-powered. The mashed food comes out an opening on the front and to the side the waste parts twist out and fall into the bowl. Fuel for the compost barrel.

Some of the pears were ripe so David picked a basketful to be used to make "fruit leather"-- a homemade version of fruit roll-ups, but without heaps of sugar and preservatives. We washed the fruit, then cut out any suspicious spots, then pushed the slices through the Squeezo. We had a big pot of pulp to which David added a bit of sugar, some pectin, then boiled for a few minutes. After it cooled  a bit he poured small amounts on to the six layers of the dehydrator. David let the machine run over night and in the morning we peeled off the thin layers of fruit leather. It was delicious!

I came home wanting to grow a huge garden--I could do that at this time of the year in Florida. I wanted to grow heaps and heaps of tomatoes and get canning equipment to "put them up" for the winter. I wanted to plant apple trees and pear trees and buy a dehydrator to make fruit leather. I wanted to live in a real log cabin in the woods. Well, that's not gonna happen. But it's OK. I understand my impulses: when I go to the opera I want to be an opera singer. We know how likely that is to happen.

The Bean House:  David & Peggy

 Abundance of tomatoes!

Magnificent Squeezo!

Frick Museum in Pittsburgh: Harriet, David & Elaine

Three generations of Huntley men: David, Simon & Eliot

Now that I am seventy

 I've often tried to decide just when a person becomes an Official Old Person--OOP. As I approached the top of each decade I pushed the date forward ten years. I'm not sure I can do that this time.

I was already depressed about being seventy when a few days before my birthday I visited my doctor. I like the lady; she is from Argentina and is very calm and caring--at least she seems to be. I had had blood work done before my visit and from the numbers she declared that I would now need medication for my diabetes and for my high blood pressure.

That same day I received a letter from a local funeral home suggesting I might want to make advanced funeral arrangements.

That same week our 15 year old dog, Tasha died.

I checked out the obituary page in the news paper and found that many people were dying in their seventies or even younger. If God grants us three score and ten years--70--I must now be living on borrowed time, as my great nephew, Anthony Henry observes.

Allen took me out for a birthday dinner at Hemingway's at the Grand Cyprus Resort in Orlando near Disney. This is our special occasion destination. Dinner conversation centered on end of life issues, but it was not depressing. I asked him if he knew he had only seven more years to live, what would he do? He answered he would not do anything differently. Really?

I would travel. I want to see China--the Great Wall, that huge dam they built, the terra cotta soldiers and the Forbidden City. I would want to lose weight so they would not have to buy an "extra large" casket for me. I'd want to see at least one thing I've written published.

So what will I do about it? In the next year I intend to exercise more. Early morning walks with my husband are pleasant and don't take a huge chunk of time out of my day. I intend to go to bed earlier and get up earlier when the house is quiet and use that time to write. Since the writing and walking may conflict I guess I'll have to go to bed really early and get up while it is still dark.

I think I hear my husband baby-talking the cats. Guess it's time to close here and cook us some oatmeal with raisins and apples. MMMMM!

So What Did YOU Do Today?

The question comes from someone who has been gone all day, busy with the business of providing for the family. Someone who does not know how much work goes into "keeping house".

WHAT DID I DO ALL DAY?! It sounds a bit like an accusation. Maybe I did nothing but lie in bed all day and read, sipping on a cup of hot tea and nibbling on a large slice of home made lemon pound cake. Maybe. But I didn't. Your underwear is clean, folded and stacked in your dresser. Your dress shirts are washed, dried, ironed and hung in your closet, organized by color. I made you a hot breakfast, served with a mug of hot coffee. The kitchen was cleaned. The bathroom was clean. The towels for your morning shower were stacked in the linen closet. Heaps of news papers were removed from your library to recycling. Healthy, hot, homemade dinner was waiting for you when you got home from work. 

This activity represents what I do some days. Other days I work in the yard. Take care of the patio garden, organize stuff for Book Club, organize the dinner for Shepherding Group. I take photos of friends for special events, edit and deliver them. I plan trips for us, make reservations. I volunteer at Nathan & Jacqueline's school. Some days I play with our granddaughter, Maggie all morning. I read to her. Let her play Doc McStuffin with me. 

I do stay busy all day. Some of the things I do don't seem that important, but all together, it makes for an orderly household and enriches the lives of my family.

 What did I do all day? Enough that I think I'm going to need that afternoon nap today.

The cure for what ails you.

It's official. I'm now diabetic. I am over the hill and slowly descending the other side. On my birthday this month I will be seventy. I am officially an Old Person. I can now joint the ranks of those whose constant delight is to talk endlessly about their medications, surgeries, and general decline. The scary thing is that I now enjoy these conversations.

I went to see Dr. Martinez and she looked at my numbers over the last year and the news was not good. I did a glucose tolerance test last week and some of those numbers were in red, declaring that medication was needed. When I saw her about four months ago, we decided I'd try exercise and a better diet, but that did not work so now I have three new medications to take. That doubles the number of pills I'm now taking. AM and PM pills for diabetes and one for blood pressure.

See, what did I tell you? I'm an official Old Person. I talk about my health in great detail. Are you bored yet?

I left the Watson Clinic depressed and angry that my body is letting me down. I thought maybe I'd be the exception and I could live for ever. I see pictures of long-time friends on Facebook and I'm amazed how old they look. I guess I just look in the mirror to put on make-up and I don't really see my face. However, there is my son, David who loves to take photographs with the camera the got for Christmas last year. His pictures of me show a fat old woman. David is a master of taking unflattering pictures and posting them on Facebook. He is better at landscapes than people, but I fear his pictures of me are accurate.

I left Watson Clinic about 9:30 AM and had not had breakfast. I headed north on 98 and saw just what I was seeking: IHOP! In defiance of my newly declared physical state I pulled into the parking lot knowing full well what I was going to order when I got inside. I got a healthy omelet with spinach and two blueberry pancakes. "Don't put that gooey blueberry stuff on the top. Just the fresh blueberries." I used a minimal amount of blueberry syrup. MMMMMM! It was the best breakfast I've had in a coon's age! I won't do it again. I'll get my medication. I'll take my pills. I'll exercise daily. I watch the amount of carbs I eat, but that one last breakfast was worth every carb, fat and calorie I put in my mouth. The memory of it still makes me smile.

What I love about England

Without even closing my eyes I can enjoy all over again the wonderful things we saw in England. Our trip by train to York right after we landed at Gatwick was lovely. The green fields marked off by hedge rows or lines of trees made the countryside look like a patchwork quilt. Some of the fields were bright yellow with the blooms of rape seed flowers. Evan told us the seeds are pressed for rape seed oil, a very healthful product.  As a part the crop rotation, this plant helps restore the richness of the soil. I tried to take pictures from the train, but they are all rather blurred. I do have the pictures in my memory.

I loved walking around in York. I loved the ancient buildings, many of them still in use. Right in town are the ruins of St Mary's Priory. It was a huge complex of buildings, but now only some walls and beautiful arches remain. I guess York was a one time a very wealthy city, so the priory reflected that. One can imagine the beautiful singing of the nuns echoing in those hallowed halls.

London! The city of Shakespeare, Milton, Lord Byron, and the Beatles! Those who changed the way we think about writing and music. I love to walk around the streets of London! Eva likes to jog. Being 69 years old, soon-to-be 70, this grandma had a hard time keeping up. The uneven surfaces of the sidewalks made me fearful of falling and being out of shape--especially in the matter of climbing down steps into the tube and up out of the tube slowed me down. There is Eva, 8 feet directly in front of me single-mindedly pursuing our destination. She looks over her shoulder now and then to make sure she has not lost me entirely. When we were traveling with our suitcases, she would take my suitcase (I would carry her big pillow) and nearly run up the steps. I was impressed with that!
After a day or two in London, we realized we wanted to see different things, so we went our separate ways, but usually had dinner together.

I love that the great museums are free with just a suggested donation. I loved it that we were only a couple of blocks away from Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. We were close to two tube stations and could get to any place in London in just a few minutes. We were close to all the good stuff!

This is the library where Evan did some of his work on his doctorate.

Saint Mayr's Priory, York

Evan explains the original
layout of the priory.

Saving the best till last.

Tonight is our last night in London. I went to the Globe to see Much Ado About Nothing. It was hilarious! Dancing and music excellent acting and those wonderful words of Shakespeare. It was laugh out funny when Benedict was hiding and listening to his friends talk about how Beatrice loved him. So funny. How he leaped about. It nearly made me cry when the false accusation was brought against Hero. I guess she had to marry Claudio in the end--it was a comedy. Excellent theater!

Monday night at the pub with the boys.

I have not kept up with the blog because I no longer trust it. It does not always work right and it has lost at least one of the blogs I spent an hour writing. We will try once again.

On Monday evening we went to the pub around the corner, the Sherlock Holmes. At six o'clock in the evening it was a crowded, noisy place. No free tables. Eva was in front of me and two gentlemen invited us to share the two empty spots at their table. She agreed so we sat down and ordered our meat pies. One guy, in his late thirties was from Colorado. The other guy, probably in his mid forties was from Australia, but lives in the islands. He was good looking, looked like a man of the world, but he had the annoying habit of winking at me when he thought he had said something clever. He offered to buy us a pint---first time that has ever happened to me! Eva did not take him up on his offer because of her meds. Do they have half pints? Yes! So I had a half pint of Speckled Hen ale. It was pretty good.

We exchanged the usual information: Where are you from? What are doing in London? The older man was the boss, and the younger one was marketing director for a firm that does international litigation. They were not attorneys, but they ran the business that supported their work. Interesting fellows. One of them asked Eva if she was religious. Thus began a most interesting conversation.

Neither of them were involved in a church; neither felt the need for any relationship with God.  The younger one grew up in a Baptist church and he thought he was OK. He was good to his wife and kids. Surely that was enough. The Boss said he had gone to church more than any of us--but I'm older---I've had more time...I went to a Catholic boys' school and we went to church three times a day all my time in school. That was enough. His hope of heaven? He was going to have last rites and that would fix everything. And if you don't have time? He was willing to take that chance.

Eva asked them some theological/philosophical questions. The Boss did not believe in absolutes. More discussion. The boss had not slept in more than 24 hours and was starting to droop. As they were leaving they said they had never had a pub conversation like that one. It was a friendly discussion. I wonder if they thought much about the conversation later.

Leaving York

Sunday morning we had breakfast (I ate blood pudding and baked beans with my eggs), packed up, checked out, and set off to meet Evan. The plan was to leave our bags at his flat then go to the service at the Minster. He gave Eva the hand drawn map because she has a better sense do direction than I do. Well, we missed a turn somewhere, got lost, and  as we were standing there wondering what to do next, Eva said "You have no idea where you are, do you?" No! You had the map! You were in charge! I'd been following Evan around for two days and we never went the same way twice so we could see more of the city. I have absolutely NO idea where we are! So we called Evan and he came and rescued us. But by that time we had to go straight to the Minster, dragging our bags behind us.
We put them behind a welcome center and went to our seat. When we went back after the service we found that the cathedral police had taken them to a secure area. Might have been bombs in there. Well, just don't do it again! Not likely! We're leaving town now! So we said goodby to Evan, took a taxi to the station took the first train out.

I loved being in York. It was fun spending time with Evan and walking around that ancient city. He would casually tell us about this building or that and over the centuries who built this part of the building or that. You could see layers of different building materials as you looked up the surface of the tower. Under what building you can find Roman roads.

I will remember narrow cobbled streets, winds strong enough almost to knock you down,  ancient walls and buildings, the amazing York Minster. Just before it rains a cold wind rises and then the rain comes.

One correction: the street called Shambles was used as a model for Dagon Alley in the Harry Potter movie, but it was not filmed there. The street does look a great deal like the one in the movie. Oh, the pub where we had our first lunch was, I think Shrinking Insanity. No, that does not sound right, either. Something about it was insane, though. Maybe it was those meat pies that were filled with potted meat that looked and tasted like Spam with a little less salt. For Evan's sake I tried to like it, but it was impossible. That white stuff around the edges that kinda looked like glue put me off me old feed bag.

Day two

The weather prediction for the day was rather bleak-- a chill wind lots of rain. The sunny morning fooled us into believing that we would have a wonderful day for walking about the town. After breakfast at the hotel we started out to walk the wall that goes part way around the city. At one time this was a Roman wall, but it has been neglected and rebuilt several times over the centuries. It is a great place to see vistas of the city, most frequently we saw the towers of the Minster hovering over the city like the hand of God, so large and grand are it's proportions.

Just as we climbed up to the top of the wall walkway it started to rain. Not a hard rain and as we had umbrellas we were ok. Our destination was the Railway Museum. It contained rail cars that once were used by the queen and the royal family. This is a museum the natives like to visit; it is less a tourist destination. The interiors were plush and richly furnished. There were multiple signs warning people not to climb up on the trains--that was because of all the children. So many kids!
Made me miss my grand children.

Will post more later.

Error! Error!

Yesterday my lovely layout for my blog went away and what we have is this ugly, utilitarian page on which to record my England adventures. It's hardly inviting to the eye, nor does it inspire good writing. I don't know how to fix it and I don't have the time to figure it out. We have to pack up and take the train right after worship at the Minster this morning. One thing I've learned writing a blog is that you don't ask a friend if they have read your blog. Most of the time they have not and they are embarrassed and you feel bad about asking. Just write because you love writing and enjoy that part of the creative experience.

Evensong at the Minster

We went to Evensong at York Minster yesterday at 5:PM. The whole experience was amazing! The first part of the Minster was built in the 11 hundreds. Over the centuries other sections were added and the final effect is majestic, with towers and spires all pointed upward, to our creator. The tall stained glass windows are glorious. It truly is an edifice glorifying to God. No ordinary music or service would do here. The music was performed by a choir of men and boys, some of the boys seemed to be too young to know how to sing that wonderful music but they did and it was marvelous! I especially loved the last beautiful note which would ring for  a few seconds after the music stopped. The classic liturgy, which included confession of sin, pardon, the Lord's Prayer and Scripture readings fit perfectly with that wonderful place of worship.

In spite of all the wonder and awe inspiring music and ancient liturgy, Eva and I both had a hard time staying awake near the end of the service.  Giving in to sleep when you  have had so little in the last 24 hours is impossible to resist, but falling over sideways in the seat has a way jerking you awake real fast.

Day one

Day one seemed like two days--actually I think it was two days. We flew out of Tampa Thursday at six fifteen PM and arrived in York at noon on the next day. Somewhere along the line we lost five hours. We had a wonderful time exploring York with Evan. By the time I took a shower and lay my body down I felt like I could sleep forever. Well, I didn't sleep quite that long. I woke up at 5:30 AM.

The trip was long. Two very unhappy toddlers made it seem longer, and the plane bouncing unexpedly  interrupted the little sleep I managed find. I was so excited about being in London I didn't care. We found baggage claim and reclaimed our bags then walked through customs which amounted to walking through a room with rows of tables, but no people to do any checking. That was easy! Next we took a trolley to the South terminal where we found the trains to take us to London to St Pancras station. From there we walked around the corner to King's Cross train station where we obtained tickets to York, a two hour train ride. The countryside was beautiful! Evan was waiting for us st the station. It was wonderful to see him again!

We had lunch at a funky little place called The Trembling Mushroom...no that's not it. I forget the name--it' trembling something. We had to go up very steep, narrow steps to the little pub and ordered two platters of meats and cheese and other tasty treats. The building had timbered walls and plaster. Evan said it was built in the 13 hundreds-- or was it in 12 hundred? I really should take notes. It's amazing to be in a building so ancient, and still in use. I guess it's a hopping place in the evenings.

I'll post more pictures when I get home. I'm having technical difficulties transferring photos from my camera to Facebook. I'm posting only from my phone. When I do you will see narrow cobbled streets with ancient buildings. For Harry Potter fans I saw the street that was used as the inspiration for Dagon Alley, the place where the students from Hogwarts went to buy their school supplies. I think they did some of the filming there. Also in this town of York is the place where they filmed the dining room scenes at Hogwarts.

Evan took us around  to see several libraries where he did research for his dissertation for his doctorate. Hummm... Dr Evan McWilliams has a nice ring to it. The libraries were small but rich in information about the history of the church and its architecture. He plans to finish up by the end of summer, then who knows where he will go from there? It's been great to spend time with him. He's a young man on the brink of opening the door to the next phase of his life. I can't believe he' twenty eight.

Pre trip tune up

A few weeks ago my lower back starting hurting. I did stretching exercises. I rested my back. I iced it. Finally, I broke down and called the chiropractor. Dr. Steve Sligh has been manipulating peoples' bones most of his adult life. He's wonderful! He has healing hands. I still have to be careful, especially when I'm bending over. It is with great distress that I look way down on the floor and contemplate how far down I must bend when I have dropped something. Getting down on the floor to wipe up a spill is a major commitment of time. While I'm down there I sometimes do my on-the-floor stretching exercises. No trip to the floor should be wasted doing only one thing.  Returning to a standing position is a major effort. I feel like todders look when they are rising to a standing position: first you plant you hands firmly on the floor, next you point your buttox toward the sky, knees to the floor,  push with your hands, straighten your legs and then stand there for a few minutes till you get your balance. I have no intention of dropping anything while in London.

Other preparations are under way and must be completed before we leave on Thursday. I must do the weekly laundry, iron enough shirts for Allen to carry him over till next week. I must thoroughly water my plants on the patio. Usually when I'm gone at least one plant dies. Poor plants! I must finish packing in those bags where you suck out all the air with a vacuum cleaner so you can pack more. I don't think I'll have a vacuum cleaner in my hotel room in London. I guess I'll just have to suck out the air with lip suction. (I wonder if that how they do liposuction?) So a little more time; a little more work and I'll be ready to fly away.

Ah, be still, my heart!

Yesterday I was able to secure tickets to a performance of Mozart' s Requiem at the Royal Albert Hall. Also on the program is the ever popular Clarinet Concerto, and the lovely Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. I love this music! And the Hall is in some sort of "A" class in the matter of acoustics. It is one of the most beautiful performance places in the world. This will be my first time there. I can't wait! 

Our itinerary is rather loosely put together. Upon arriving in England we will travel to York and spend a few days there before taking the train South to London where we will stay the rest of the week. When I ask Eva about what is at the top of her "must see" list she mentions the grave yard where William Blake is buried. She loves Blake's poetry and art. I think theologian John Owen is also buried there. So on our first full day in London we will go in search of the graves of famous men. Sounds like a great start to our week in London!

Sticker shock!

I went to the bank today to pick up the British pounds I ordered a few days ago and the cool, shocking truth nearly knocked me over! If I say  $1.70 in American money will buy you one British pound, that does not sound so bad. Not being much of a mathematician I was not prepared for the small envelope they gave be back for the big stack of American dollars I gave them. If we really are the most powerful nation in the world, our currency does not seem to have the punch it should have.

I guess I'll just have to look up at the Tower of London, Westminster Abby, up at palaces, and art galleries, and especially the British Museum and not look down to see the $$$ bleeding from my purse. Anyway, I have been warned. Here's a quote from Luxe City Guide for London: "On a budget? Don't come to London. In London on a budget? Start crying. This city is one huge cash removal zone--either put up or shut up." Nice, eh?

On the up-side, most of the museums and art galleries are free. Walking in those ancient streets is also free.  Walking around Kensington Gardens is free. For all the rest, I'm willing to step up to the plate and plunk down my fresh supply of pounds for all those historic and amazing things to see. I want to see the Crown Jewels, the Globe Theater, Oxford and much, much more. I have been saving my $$$$ just for this purpose and now is time to spend without whining. I plan to enjoy myself immensely.

Five day and counting.

I had almost forgotten about this blog. I'm preparing for a trip to England and I thought about starting a blog to make a record of the events of the trip. So I guess I'll just continue with this one.

I guess the title still works. I'll be traveling with Eva Armes and she is sorta an adopted granddaughter. I won't be her Nanny, but I could be her Granny...except I don't like being called Granny, maybe Grandmother, or as my sister, Kay wanted to be called, Grand-MaMa. oh how elegant!

One week from today we will be flying out of Tampa to Gatwick, then to York, and then back to London for the rest of the time. Eva's trip is a gift from her grandparents on the completion of her college degree at USF. I've been reading Rick Steves to make sure I'm thoroughly prepared. I'm really excited about seeing London again. Hoping to have tea with the queen this time.