This year’s pre-sailing logistics were even more complicated than usual. Our daughter Meredith decided to celebrate her wedding in Scotland in the early part of May. A risky call based on the weather but it tied in nicely with our plans for getting to Brindisi and True Colors this year.
However, we had to take account of multiple travel arrangements - Lori’s mom and Meredith’s brother were traveling to Scotland with us but traveling g back to the US on their own after the wedding; Lori’s sister and her family were meeting us in Scotland and sharing accommodation for the five days surrounding the event.
Surprisingly we didn’t lose anyone on the way or leave anyone behind.
As I said, the weather in Scotland in May can be tricky and during the five days we had snow, rain clouds and, yes(!), sunshine. We rented a lovely cottage on the north shores of Loch Tay. By chance, this was the loch where I first learned to sail many years ago at university The only downside of this location was the narrow roads that had to be navigated to get to the property (and the slightly complicating factor that Americans are driving on the “wrong” side of the road).
When we arrived at our cottage it was freezing and they said “You should have been here a few weeks ago, the weather was really warm.”
The wedding was a great success and the bride, of course, looked radiant (but I might just be a little biased here.)
People who hadn’t worn kilts before did so and looked handsome (and even those of us who had didn’t look too bad either); people who hadn’t eaten haggis before, did so and many liked it; people who hadn’t done any form of Scottish country dancing before, participated with an enthusiasm that more than made up for any shortage of skill; people who hadn’t drunk any alcohol before …. wait a minute…. there weren’t any of those.
Weddings in the UK are, of course, also an excuse for mothers of the principals to wear extravagant hats
This is Anne, the groom’s mom. Sadly, Lori couldn’t find a hat that would survive the trip in a sailing duffel!
And for the giving and getting of cross-generational advice
But, in the end, the day belongs to the beautiful woman in the almost-as-beautiful dress …..
After the wedding, various subgroups split off - some heading for the iIsle of Skye, some to Edinburgh and our little band of four driving back to Manchester so that Lori’s mom and Blake could catch their flight home
Lori and I took a few days to travel south through England towards London before flying from Gatwick to Italy. Our first stop was in the Peak District just south of Manchester.
When we arrived at our hotel it was freezing and they said “You should have been here a few weeks ago, the weather was really warm.”
Even beautiful rolling hills and ancient dry-stone walls look pretty drab in low cloud and horizontal drizzle. But “navigating” turned out to be the sport to brighten even the dreariest day.
In this part of England, the farms are old and the tracks that nave grown into roads try not to trespass on anybody’s field or farmyard. So blind right-angle turns are common. And when I say that the tracks have “grown” into roads, this is more related to their stature than their dimensions. One lane is common - with walls or hedges on either side just to reduce the visibility and add that frisson of mortal peril to the whole endeavor.
Because the road (i.e. track) network is so intricate, the prudent driver uses GPS. In Britain, GPS is called Satnav. The alert among you will notice that this is an anagram of “satan” (with an extra v). We quickly found out why.
Our GPS had not been programmed to understand that cars can turn around and, more or less readily, face in the opposite direction. It preferred to take a circuitous route on the above mentioned tracks for about a mile or so and bring us back to our starting point (but indeed facing in the other direction.) Another nice feature was that it made no differentiation between “shortest route” and “fastest route”. For it, “shortest” meant “fastest”. So it happily ignored major roads with multiple lanes and average speeds that could exceed 60 miles per hour in favor of the above-mentioned tiny farm tracks where 15 mph felt like Formula One racing.
Our usual mellow and cordial interaction between navigator and driver became tense.
Then we saw it. There was a sign (indeed we were to see more than one). It was a properly-made, official British roadway sign. It said “Do not follow Satnav.” This was one of those existential moments like Sisyphus rolling his rock up the hill where you realize that all human endeavor is futile - the gods will always win.
We eventually escaped the labyrinth and headed out towards London and Gatwick airport. I used to live on the border of Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire and this was to be an opportunity for Lori to see some of the perfect little villages in this beautiful area.
Long Crendon
When we arrived at our hotel it was freezing and they said “You should have been here a few weeks ago, the weather was really warm.” But at least this time it turned out to be sunny and we got to visit Long Crendon and Hambleden as well as enjoying some of the better examples of English cuisine.
We were close enough to London to make a day trip possible. Lori had never visited London before. She has often subtly hinted to me that she might like to go by saying nuanced things like “When are you going to take me to London?”
So this would be the time and we would do it by train. In principle, this would be easy; in practice it was not. I had forgotten that in Britain people spend the work week breaking the rail network through the sheer weight of numbers of passengers and then stalwart rail personnel spend the weekend putting it all back together again.
So the simple one-hour direct trip to London became a two-hour saga that involved a train, a bus and another train. We got there and it was freezing.
However we had a good walk taking in many of the major sites - all of which were fortunately in the same place as they were the last time i visited and they’d added a few more.
Westminster Abbey
It’s called the “London Eye” - looks more like an “O” to me.
By lunchtime it was still cold and we sought a hot meal in a pub. When we commented how cold it was the waitress said “You should have been here a few weeks ago, the weather was really warm.”
Outside people were trying to keep warm by dancing. In England, especially in country villages in May, there is a tradition called Morris Dancing. Men dress in very idiosyncratic outfits that include bells and they hold stick with which they beat each other (actually each other’s stick). all this is accompanied by traditional pipe music. The whole visual effect is somewhat like a very polite gang fight with a backing track.
What was odd however was that we saw this dancing only in the big cosmopolitan city of London - in the traditional villages we saw no evidence of this at all. Hmmm!
For the trip home, the rail network had more delights in store. This time we traveled on just one train, but it went to a station on a completely different line than that on our itinerary, then backed up to the branch that we should have taken and changed direction again to take us to our destination. The other travelers seemed to think this was completely normal.
For our last day in the UK, we drove on to Gatwick and stayed at the hotel at the airport. When we got there it was not quite freezing but they said “You should have been here a few weeks ago, the weather was really warm.” But the sun was by now starting to gain the upper hand.
Before we move on from England (and the UK), I have to explain a littler bit of popular culture. For those of you who like long multi-episode dramas with people talking in British accents - “Downton Abbey”, “Poldark”, “Outlander” etc. and political dramas with the same British accents like the original “House of Cards”, there’s a new really good new one called “Brexit” You may not have been keeping up with iIt but it is well worth your attention. It has been playing to rapt audiences throughout Europe. The French, apparently, treat it as some kind of reality TV series to be enjoyed with popcorn and beer. If the French stoop to popcorn and beer, it must be good.
It has both fairytale and Shakespearean dimensions. It all started when a simple minister’s daughter drank from a poisoned chalice prepared by a wily wizard (who swiftly left the scene before the real drama began). The poor lass vowed to lead her nation to freedom. In another historical parallel, she could be compared to Joan of Arc. However in this case it is the maid’s own army that’s trying to kill her and burn her at the stake.
And the drama of her quest has been playing on TV almost constantly for three years. It has more factions than “Game of Thrones” and more than one cast member who reminds everyone of Donald Trump (and not in a good way).
The final episode was supposed to be on March 29, but by popular demand (and because no-one can remember what they did in the evenings before Brexit was on TV), it has been extended into a new season which now May or May not (did you catch that one?) end on October 31. In the UK this is date known as “Halloween” when all the witches and evil spirits are supposed to rise and roam the land. (See I told you it was Shakespearean).
And in breaking developments it seems that there will be a cast change for this final season. The lass finally heard the voices from above saying, “Resign for heaven’s sake! (And everyone else’s for that matter.)”. The new leading player might just be another wily wizard who can best be likened to an intellectual Donald Trump. (if that doesn’t give you nightmares, nothing will).
But the problem with this drama (and why it might not play well in the US) is that no-one who is not living in the UK can really understand it. Actually not many of those who live there do either. And everyone we met either didn’t know what was going on or were sure that their personal perspective was right but found it hard to say just why it was.
Interesting and worth watching late at night (but you might be better to stick with the next season of Downton Abbey)..