No. 50: Become a Tudor"Oh don't look so dismal," Zeddy said as he leaned on his car horn. The trip back from Hampton was taking longer than expected, and Zeddy urged the congestion of cars in front of him to move. "We call this traffic. Do you have it in America?"
We were on our way to meet Justin for pizza in Golders Green following a visit to Hampton Court. It's a major point of interest for Henry VIII fans like myself and a place I had been meaning to get to the entire time I was in London. Officially my final Sunday before going back to the states, I'd spent the last few weeks tying up as many loose ends as possible. Which meant lots and lots of last minute sight seeing.
"I haven't even been to Leeds!" I moaned as we walked in Pizza Express.
“That’s awful. You should just stay.”
“I’m being serious!”
“Well you don’t sound it,” Zeddy said. “Who wants to go to Leeds?”
I did. I wanted to go to Leeds, and to Ireland to kiss the Blarney Stone. I wanted to go to Brighton, if for no other reason than to discover why Jane Austen’s Lydia wanted to get there so badly in the first place. There was a great long list of things I had been meaning to do, and now the time had outrun me.It felt as if I’d forgotten to do something, like turn off the coffee pot or have kids before thirty-five.
Locating Justin at a table in the back of the restaurant, we said our hellos and sat down to order. Waiting for my mushroom pie to come, I showed Justin the fluffy quill pen I had picked up from Hampton Court.
“And what will you do with it?”
“Write on parchment.”
“Of course, how silly of me."
We were on our way to meet Justin for pizza in Golders Green following a visit to Hampton Court. It's a major point of interest for Henry VIII fans like myself and a place I had been meaning to get to the entire time I was in London. Officially my final Sunday before going back to the states, I'd spent the last few weeks tying up as many loose ends as possible. Which meant lots and lots of last minute sight seeing.
"I haven't even been to Leeds!" I moaned as we walked in Pizza Express.
“That’s awful. You should just stay.”
“I’m being serious!”
“Well you don’t sound it,” Zeddy said. “Who wants to go to Leeds?”
I did. I wanted to go to Leeds, and to Ireland to kiss the Blarney Stone. I wanted to go to Brighton, if for no other reason than to discover why Jane Austen’s Lydia wanted to get there so badly in the first place. There was a great long list of things I had been meaning to do, and now the time had outrun me.It felt as if I’d forgotten to do something, like turn off the coffee pot or have kids before thirty-five.
Locating Justin at a table in the back of the restaurant, we said our hellos and sat down to order. Waiting for my mushroom pie to come, I showed Justin the fluffy quill pen I had picked up from Hampton Court.
“And what will you do with it?”
“Write on parchment.”
“Of course, how silly of me."
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