"The bombs"

Yesterday and even today there have been incidents in London all too reminiscent of the July 7th bombings. Two days ago we returned from a long weekend near the capital, in which we ambled around Stonehenge, explored the house and grounds of Cliveden (or Cliefden) estate on the chalky cliffs overlooking the Thames near Maidenhead, spent an entire day exhausting ourselves at Legoland amusement park, and even managed a visit to the Queen's weekend retreat, Windsor Castle.

Shortly before our trip Kassie expressed reservations about spending time in and around London due to "the bombs" which she attributes to animosity over London winning the Olympic bid. We did not tell her of the bombings; she learned of them at school, either in the playground or from her teachers. Obviously we can no longer shield her from events such as these, and indeed we must not only adequately inform her but also urge her to continue to live life without fear. Imagine all the fun she would have missed by staying safely at home.

Another tour abroad

On our drive back from London last month we stopped off at Charlecote Park to visit the ancestral home of the Fairfax-Lucy family. Famous for its royal visit in the sixteenth century and the reason for Shakespeare's flight from Stratford to London, Charlecote is also the marital home of Mary Elizabeth Williams Lucy. In 1823 the heiress from North Wales reluctantly married George Lucy at the tender age of twenty and became mistress of Charlecote. After reading her memoirs I was eager to visit the country home she and her husband set out to rejuvenate, replenished with marble, art and other treasures purchased during tours abroad, one of which saw the young family leaving with a newborn babe and returning more than two years later to report his sad loss and the arrival of another infant.

It amazes me that a tour of the Continent in the 19th century might last two years. After a fourteen-hour crossing on a steam packet, I imagine I'd stay a good long while too. So I suppose Mary Elizabeth might look upon our three and a half years in England as a prolonged tour or sojourn. Judging from the number of places we've managed to visit, perhaps she'd not be far wrong.



For more on Charlecote, visit our Travels in the UK website.

Chronicled as stylish

Our home is featured in this week's local Chronicle—in article form as well as in ad format—as "highly appealing," "stylish," and located "in a much sought after area within walking distance of the town centre...the agents strongly recommend an early inspection".

Come one, come all. No carpet treaders please.

London

Yesterday I whooped for joy when I heard London had been chosen to host the Olympics. Today I blinked back tears as I heard the firsthand accounts of shell-shocked residents and saw the twisted metal of that city bus.

Who are you

Kassie's latest project is a magazine about sport—she fancies herself a writer, as well as an artist, ballerina, etc.— and one of the bylines is called "Who are You?" and features current sport idols such as Wayne Rooney. Given my affliction of late (see my Early Onset Dementia post), her discussion of it at breakfast soon had me singing that old favourite of The Who (of CSI fame for those too young to be geniune fans). It wasn't long before Kassie was dancing—not to say that her mother can sing—and it recalled to mind the fatherly rockers showcased at the recent Live 8 concert, particularly Pink Floyd who resembled not the ancient and emaciated, squinty-eyed band members of Aerosmith or The Stones (or the tattooed monstrosity I caught a glimpse of at the Barrie concert) but rather kindly old gentlemen we might know from the neighbourhood: fathers, uncles, grandfathers even. Talk about aging gracefully.

Making the move

It's begun. Our house is on the market (see below). The paperwork is being prepared at John's workplace. Kassie has informed her closest friends. She's also been accepted at Miss Edgar's and Miss Cramp's school for girls in Montreal. This week I'm starting to train a few parents in website design, so Kassie's current school's website won't fade into obscurity. We figure we'll make the trip to Canada mid-August, to settle Kassie in before school starts at the end of the month. Sadly, school isn't finished in the UK until the end of this month, so Kassie won't have a very long summer holiday...but at least it won't lack for excitement.

Early onset dementia?

Most mornings I wake up with a song playing in my head. Today it was Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, not my favourite tune from yesterday's Live 8 concert. If given a choice I would have picked Dido and Youssou N'Dour's Seven Seconds. That's the trouble, you see: I can't pick and choose the number. Often it's the theme song of a kid's television show, an old tune from my formative years (and the tape long since relegated to the dustbin), or a song I half-heard the day before. It's come to the point where I have to beg Kassie for a new tune before she goes off to school.