"What Do You Mean '3 Sets of Stairs'?"

Boring.  That's what our flight from Chicago was.  Business class.  Can't even complain about the seats, as they made into a FLAT bed.  Really.  Flat. And there were pillows.  And fluffy blankets.  Thank you, United Airlines.  Well, I suppose I could complain about the food.  But after dinner tonight, it seems a little petty.

So, we got our rental car.  The cutest little Mercedes hatchback!  Yes, it goes on the wrong side of the road.  But to out-fox those tricky Brits, we brought along our Garmin nuvi which does Europe too!  And, believe it or not, it works here.  Only thing wrong: the car kept beeping at us.  I pleaded with Bos, as we whizzed along M4, to call Europcar(part of National car) to find out what the constant annoying beeping was.  Finally figured it out!  The Brits have speed cameras posted on their highways and, if you go over the speed limit (which everyone does) our GARMIN beeps at us.  Like a bad mother saying, "Stop picking your nose" or something.  Once I figured it out, I could hound Bos to slow down.  But we drove the two hours to Bath, using a fold-up map, a hand-drawn map from the Europcar man, and a travel book, in addition to the navi.  So we get here and the roads are really narrow. Bos is in a panic to not hit another parked car, as they park all over, any direction. (And in Ireland, he whacked off a sideview mirror from a parked car, so he is a little sensitive!) And Navi (hence called "Jill") kept saying the hotel was in the middle of an intersection.  45 minutes later we find the stone gates to the Bath Priory, built in 1835.  And we feel like we are in a Jane Austen novel (NOT one of the new ones with werewolves!).  Really, Jane Austen era.  Our room is on the third floor.  Three sets of stairs.  Creaky knees.  Sore hips.  I felt REALLY sorry for the bellboys carrying our bags up.  AND no air.        Fans, yes.  But we spoiled Americans just assume air is included.To continue the Jane Austen theme, we had cocktails on the terrace overlooking the grounds, gardens and the croquet court.  Lunch in the drawing room (actually, one of three "drawing rooms").  And dinner?  Well, here they eat late.  Dinner is always at 8:30 or later.  And it was delish.  Tasting menu.  And since we are near the ocean, fresh seafood is wonderful.  So, bloop, we are ready to bed.  Bos is playing with his new iPad, which gets U.S. newspaper.  And I will make the fan blow on ME, not Bos.  All in all, a lovely day.  Like Jane Austen without the corsets.  And like Jane Austen with 3(THREE) sets of stairs and no elevators!  Maybe I like the 21st century!!

           

What Happened to "We're Cutting It Close!?"

Morning of flight.  "T" Day.  Troops assembling to come ashore, under cover of dark.  BUT what is unusual about today?  Well, only Brent and Betsy will understand this, but their dad is an engineer.  Now, I know there are great qualities in engineers.  They are like grown-up Boy Scouts: everything in its place, clean your plates when you eat, pack in orderly fashion for outings, get there on time, no matter what.  It's this last thing that has caused a problem in our household for hundreds (yes, hundreds) of years.

When I worked, I would pack at midnight for a flight leaving at 7 a.m. There was actually more than a 50% chance we might be late. Horrors!!  We would get up at o-dark-hundred to get to the airport.  And the whole time, bubbling up inside Bos, was this one statement:  "We're cutting it close...we're cutting it close...we're cutting it close."  Even if he never said it, he was THINKING it. Particularly, Betsy and I would chastise him about his mantra.  We KNEW it was playing in his brain. And it would so not change anything.  All the pacing at home while we put on makeup didn't change anything.  Our eating breakfast didn't change anything. In fact, we knew what was going on inside him by the way he drove, once we got started  He would be careening down roads, veering onto highways, swearing at stalled traffic, all because his little Boy Scout heart was telling him we would be LATE. And LATE is the worst thing that can happen.  All the speeding, swearing, thinking about cutting it close, was supposed to make us show up on time.  Now, to cut the suspense, we always did make it on time. BUT this time, this one time, we were EARLY!!  Noone was in line. Airport was empty.  People strolled to gates.  Check-in clerks were helpful and polite.  We could wander toward the gate many miles away, where there were no people waiting --- because we were there soooo early.  We could even take a bathroom break, as a precaution!

So, I ask you, what happened to my Boy Scout??? Why were we early??  He packed on Thursday.  He repacked again on Sunday night -- just to make sure.  And still, his little engineer heart was pounding about being late.  Not good.  NEXT time we will make sure to do this all at the last minute.  THEN he will feel justified, in his heart of hearts, to continue with his travel mantra:  "We're cutting it close."

"What Do You Mean, 'You're All Done'?"

So. SO.  So again.  We are done packing.  It is really disconcerting.  Because, when I was working, I usually packed in a flurry a couple hours before we left for the airport. Never -- not on any of our trips, did my family think I could get it all together in such short a time.  But it always worked out!!  Now, well, NOW we have been packed for nearly 4 days.  I've actually forgotten what is in those bags. We walk past the bedroom where the bags sit quietly and feel guilty. Why guilty?  No flurry going on, I assume. That's why.  It will be like Christmas opening the suitcases when we get to England.  In fact, this is all so out-of-character for us that today BOS is unpacking in order to repack! We've cleaned out the refrigerator.  And the pool.  Oh -- and we made a trip to Borders to buy maps of England and of France. Too much time on our hands!

 Rather than worrying about packing, I am focusing on a new obstacle. I have chosen to worry about not knowing where we will be driving when we get there.  So, on the kitchen table, we have a large map of England and we are marking roads with highlighters that we hope we can read when we get there!  I think this whole trip may be a very bad idea, now that I think about it!  Wrong side of road.  Tired from a long plane ride. Bos isn't that great a driver here.  What makes me think he'll improve in a strange country with a strange car on strange roads.  Not knowing where we are going. What if our fancy little GPS really doesn't work in ENgland like they advertise??!!  What made us think this would all work 9 months ago?? And it is too late to get our money back. Must have been a brain dysfunction back then!!! Oh well--now it's time to wait...and worry...and wait...and worry...

Is "Hysterimania" Really a Word??

"D Day" is fast approaching.  No, that's in France and that comes later.  This is really "T Day" for "travel day" and the closer it gets the more "hysterimaniacal" I become.  See, we use my mom's former bedroom as a staging area.  And we had to "stage" way earlier than ever because:  another bright idea of mine, of course.

See, there is this company.  It is called "Luggage Free" and they will ship your luggage anywhere in the world and guarantee that it will get there.  All it takes is gold bullion bars.  ANYWAY, it seemed like a good idea back when.  Because I figured we didn't want to rent a giant van or something to drive around in England or in France. We decided we would ship one BIG bag to the boat and just take two small carryons for the 8 days in England and 8 days again in France.  Sensible, huh?!  Well, the closer and closer we got to D (excuse me!) "T" day, the more difficult this all became.

Try, a week ahead of a trip, to decide what you will need to wear in England versus a cruise versus France.  I checked weather reports in all locations but I know from experience that it is always HOTTER wherever and if you THINK it is going to be hotter, it will be colder.  Which means, simply, you need to take hot AND cold clothes plus rain gear, travel books, makeup (especially at THIS age!), hair stuff, binoculars, kindles(this was one wise choice -- not hauling books!), and odd and assorted things.  AND this does NOT fit into one big suitcases and two small carryons!  So, I get hysterimaniacal.

Now Bos is an engineer.  They are fixers, if you know what I mean.  So...he hauls out rolling racks that I am to put all my choices for clothing.  Only my choices include everything in my closet, my mother's closet (because I took that over when Mom died) and part of Bos's closet (which I also took over, sorry to say!).  And Bos's only help is to tell me I can take it all.  Because he is a master packer, he says.  But I spend 3 days hanging up and taking down.  Trying to figure I will tough it out and then reversing the tough part and belligerently saying I WILL take it all!.  FYI, it did NOT all fit in.  But Bos spent the next two days packing and repacking -- with added (not carryons) suitcases.  So here I sit, all packed up, big suitcase on its way to ENgland, other suitcases packed with who-knows-what.  And I figure we will just keep up the image of the ugly American wherever we go!  Did I tell you we have 16 pairs of shoes, so our feet won't hurt??!!  See what I mean????

So Here We Go Again...

It seemed like such a good idea 10 months ago!  We had just returned a couple months before from this fabulous Black Sea cruise and I think we were in some sort of "happy memory haze" or something.  So we decided to do ANOTHER big trip!  And we went through the same agony deciding on where!  Bos wants (always) to go to Scotland.  Because he's Scottish.  Been there.  Done that.  I always dream of floppy hats, sitting at a bistro table with a glass of wine like (we imagine) the French people do!  So guess who won?!  Me, of course.  But with a twist...we are flying to London, renting a car (yes, we know they drive on the 'wrong' side of the road!) and bumbling around southwest England for 8 days.

Why there?  Well, in the 70's, I watched a dramatic BBC series on Masterpiece Theater called "Poldark", set in the 1700's in Cornwall with the tin miners and ladies in fancy dresses, all those period things.  And, in my heart of hearts, I think I should have been born back then (except for the slop jars!  I need bathrooms, thank you very much!).  So we are going on a Poldark adventure with winds blowing off the cliffs, tumbledown manor houses, and a GPS system to guide us.  Only MY way of going is:  modern day manor houses with bathrooms and air conditioning for hotels and tea at 4 p.m. with cucumber sandwiches!  All I need to do is overcome this distinct feeling that we will probably get lost, our American GPS system is supposed to also do Europe but I figure will not work, and we may end up in RObin Hood's forest or something!  Anyway---

THEN after 8 days of careening around, we hop on a cruise ship and go to France, Portugal, Spain and the south of France, leaping off the ship in Monte Carlo.  Where  we get another rental car and follow the GPS up through France to the Loire Valley and then Paris to come home.  (Again, it seemed like a good idea back when...not so much right now!)  But more of all that later.  We have more immediate problems today!