Photo Albums

Jen has gotten all of her photos sorted into a Google Photos album.  She is a much better photograoher than I am and was using a proper camera, so even though some of her shots are of the same things as mine, hers are generally going to be better.

Jen's Album
My Album

Many of the photos from my album are already directly linked to, but some aren't and it's nice to be able to get to all the photos from one place.

If you do not have access, chances are you probably shouldn't, but on the off chance that this isn't the case, hit Jen or myself up.

All good things...

'But our back is to legends and we are coming home. I suppose this is the first taste of it.'
'There is a long road yet,' said Gandalf.
'But it is the last road,' said Bilbo.

It ended far too quickly.  Yet the experiences Jen and I have shared seem far too vast to have been created over just a week's time.  It feels like we've been here for so much longer when I think back on all we've seen and done.

The Portobello Hotel has been wonderful.  The atmosphere, the people, and the service have all added so much to this trip and made even our downtime a joy.  I can't recommend this place highly enough.  When (and it must be 'when', not 'if') we return to London, we will surely also return here.

Almost as soon as I'd finished writing the preceding paragraph, we were informed that the cab we'd ordered to take us to Paddington had arrived.  Unfortunately, we'd ordered it to arrive 45 minutes later in order to have time to finish breakfast, have the luggage brought down from our rooms, and get checked out.  Evidently the front desk erred on the side of ruthless efficiency.  Ah well, at least we'd mostly finished breakfast.  And the hotel staff bent over backwards to accommodate us in what became a frenzy of activity to get us out the door and into the taxi.

Our driver was a saint.  Not only did he have to wait at the hotel curb as we got everything sorted inside, but once we got to Paddington Station he had to wait again while I found a cash machine, as the lone £10 note in my wallet wasn't going to cut it and he couldn't take card.  He was extremely nice about all of it and more than deserved the large tip (which he tried to turn down).

Then it was the express to Heathrow, a flurry of bag checks, security checks, a tram to the auxilliary international terminal, some last minute purchases (mostly bags of sweets to hand out back home), and finally coffee and the wait for boarding call.

And just like that, we're home.  Tired (Jen is already fast asleep as I write this) and happy to be home, but already missing it all.  What an experience.   We talked about our favorite moments as we sat in rush hour 183 traffic, and it was difficult to narrow it down to one, even day by day.  It hardly seems real.

I can't wait to see where we go next, what we'll get to see and do.  And I can't think of anyone I'd rather do it all with.

Thank you, baby.  I love you so very much.

And it is good to be home.

Skiving Off

Today was our last full day in England before heading back to Austin.  We had intended to cram in some of the things we hadn't had time to do, but I think the hectic pace of the last week was finally catching up with us.  We (and by this I mean mostly I, as Jen was up a good deal before me) slept very late, to the extent that once we finally set out in search of food, it was no longer technically morning.  This was pointed out to us by the hotel staff with considerable amusement.

As breakfast-time had long past, we made lunch the priority before considering the rest of the day.  For this we settled on the Sun in Splendour pub.  I wasn't too keen on pub food but the menu looked decent enough, so in we went.

It was a cheery, cozy place with a nice private back garden that we settled into with our drinks (being that it was a pub, we felt obligated to order booze rather than coffee or something sensible; this probably informed much of the rest of the day).

After some ballast, we made our way around the Portobello Market for some shopping in the many excellent antique and clothing shops.  So many wonderful things, so little trunk space.  Next time we'll bring an extra.

After stowing our treasures at the hotel, we set off for Piccadilly Circus and the frenzy of rampant consumerism contained therein.  This was more out of curiosity's sake, as we'd been loading up on souvenirs and knickknacks of all sorts this whole time.  What we hadn't really reckoned on was just how tired we were, both physically and emotionally, and that we really should've gone with stimulant rather than depressant at lunchtime.

After a lot of jostling on the tube (the people on the Piccadilly line were generally a much more glum lot than those we'd been sharing space with on the Circle or Central or District lines; no idea why), we arrived at the Circus and wandered out into the square.

We'd forgotten that the main branch of Waterstone's was here at Piccadilly Circus; this was something Jen really wanted to visit, more as homage than to purchase.  We immediately headed in to rummage through their reading material and pillage their supply of caffeinated beverages (not in that order).

After restoring our caffeine levels to their proper place, we spent awhile browsing their vast selection of books.  Old, new, domestic, foreign, Waterstone's probably has it.  Each floor (there were 7) has a cafe providing beverages and nibbles, and comfy chairs for reading abound.  If it sounds a lot like Barnes and Noble, that's pretty much what it was, but on a larger and more eclectic scale.

After that... we were kinda done.  Jen's foot, which had performed so much better than we'd had cause to hope for, was finally starting to give her some serious trouble.  My back wasn't terribly thrilled either (my lawn; get off it).  We wandered around Piccadilly rather aimlessly for a bit before calling it a day and retreating back to the hotel to hole up in the common room and drink lots of coffee and put our feet up.

Mmm coffee.  Also, they gave us free chocolate loaf.  Yum.

The Ashmolean

After a long and late lunch at the Eagle and Child, we parted ways with Vicky (her husband having left a bit beforehand to wrangle children from school) and headed back to the Ashmolean to spend the rest of the afternoon amongst its amazing collections of art and history.

The museum was much smaller and more intimate than the grandiosity of the British Museum.  It is the oldest museum in the UK, having been founded a century or so before B.M.  I found it to be more inclined to present information in a teaching fashion rather than dry fact.

The threads of one T.E. Lawrence.

This collection of musical instruments was fantastic.  I can't imagine playing on some of these older guitars, though, they look incredibly uncomfortable.

This was an entire inner funerary chamber, reassembled stone by stone.  The carvings on the walls both inside and out is astonishing.  I've long since run out of suitable adjectives.

O hai, Sobek.

Here's one of Khnum (for those whom this is significant, you know who you are).

O ushabti, if I am called upon, if I am appointed to do any work which is done on the necropolis .... even as the man is bounden, namely to cultivate the fields, to flood the river-banks or to carry the sand of the East to the West, then speak thou 'Here am I!'

Rembrandt's Sensation series.  The fifth one is still missing...

At this point it's hard not to feel completely overwhelmed by everything we've seen and experienced over the last few days.  Cultural infusion at hyperspeed.  I'm sure it'll all feel like a dream in a matter of days after we're back to our normal lives.  I think, however, that this journey has kindled a fire in us to experience more of what world travel has to offer.

One huge disappointment on this outing was that we did not get a chance to visit Tolkien's graveside at Wolvercote Cemetary, as we didn't discover that the grounds closed at 4:30 until it was too late.

Next time, then.