In a few hours, I’ll be winging my way across The Pond for my first British Adventure.
I can’t wait to meet my darling blog-friend, Evelyn, who has so graciously offered her hospitality and companionship. Her eclectic knowledge and far-flung interests never cease to astound. One look at her blog will tell you that. We speak a wonderful language that I’m sure no one else can understand. Part poetry, part trans-continental colloquialisms, part bipolar-brain, we delight in each other’s weirdness. She was the first person to buy a card from my Etsy sight. I feel like I’ve known Evelyn all my life. Here she is with Fred (who seems to speak the same Irritated Cat language as my Henry).
Then, there’s that other piece of business I’ll be tending to while in London. A bit of theater. In the front row. Agog.
For Hobbit fans, this soliloquy might ring a few bells. Alas, poor Richard seems to be destined for the torch. Is it any wonder I’m smoldering?
Evelyn has instructions to box up my ashes and ship me home. I’ll send up a smoke signal when I get back.