An Edinburgh interlude

The next morning dawned warm and sunny and after a lovely breakfast delivered to our room on delicate blue and white china plates, we headed north again to Edinburgh. Luckily our favorite B&B had a room for us and we spent the next few days shopping and sight seeing. We bought a book of Robbie Burns songs and ballads, old volumes of poetry by Scott, a book on birds of Britain, water colors for me, music books, and typing paper for Jack.

We visited the National Gallery to see an exhibit of prints by Daumier, and spent time listening to some buskers in the park. It was great people watching. A little old lady danced by in her purple hat, a fastidious gentleman took out his handkerchief and smoothed it daintily on the step before sitting down to listen, people fed birds or just stood around enjoying the beautiful day and the music.

After saying good-bye to our hosts, who had by this time become friends, we packed up and took the final road to the north and home.

Where we go to D'isney land

Leaving London - strung out, jet lagged, hungry - heading north and trying to stay awake. We had a hard time finding a hotel we liked and by the time we got to Lincoln, Jack was a basket case. We decided to take the next hotel or B&B we passed no matter what - and landed in the D'Isney Place. It was a charmer and when we got to our room there was tea and a basket of fruit, scented oils for the bath and warm, fluffy terrycloth robes for after. It was heaven.

After a short nap we walked around the town. The hotel is only a block from the minster and the cathedral is lovely, as is the rest of the town. We walked through ancient streets - steep, winding ways - each turning a delight to the eye. We liked it there better than York - quieter and much less commercial. We had supper in a little pub - then back for a last cup of tea and to bed. Ahhh....

Will they let us in?

So there we were in Gatwick Airport at 7:00 a.m. asking for 12 month visas. We had been assured by the consulate in Chicago that we could just get them at the airport no problem. Seems that there was nobody for the passport people to ask about what obviously wasn't a common request, until the customs staff came in at 9:00. So they locked us up in a room with a whole lot of West Africans, none of whom spoke English.

Sometime after 9:00 we were released into the custody of an immigration officer who obviously was trying to prove we should be sent back to the States - a very rude and officious woman. Luckily we could prove that we had the funds to keep us for at least a year without having to take jobs from deserving Brits. She finally, after about an hour's hassle, gave us our visas and sent us on our way stressed out and exhausted. Later we found that we would have to register with the local police and fill out a form every year in order to renew the visa. As it turned out, once we were in, they just renewed it every year with no hassle at all.

Finally we got ourselves and all our luggage stuffed into a Ford Escort and started off to drive through the middle of London on what seemed to us the wrong side of the road. We had planned to stop in the city to visit an old friend but stressed, tired and hungry as we were by that time, survival seemed a bigger priority and we were glad enough to actually get through the city without having an accident or getting too lost. We were happy to find that magical highway sign that says "To The North" and really be on the road home.

Up, up and away

Back from Colorado and now the countdown to departure began in earnest. We decided not to ship anything ahead. If we couldn't take it on the plane we wouldn't take it. I wanted to take my guitar - I figured I'd have long evenings by the fireside to practice. I had a set of stainless mixing bowls and measuring spoons that I couldn't live without, and several pots that filled a gap in the furnished kitchen equipment list. Clothes of course and medicines, cosmetics etc. that I figured I may not be able to find there. And Jack's folding fly rod that he'd gotten as a going away gift. And that's about it.

We had a wooden crate in which I packed my guitar, and arranged the kitchen stuff around it. I filled in the spaces and cushioned everything with wash cloths, towels and dishtowels and may even have gotten some clothes and shoes in there. We had 8 pieces of luggage in all - 2 duffle bags, 2 suitcases, a backpack, a suitbag, Jack's typewriter and the crate.

We managed to sell the car two days before we left - cut that too close for comfort.

It was hardest to say good-bye to the girls and my parents. My father all of a sudden had come up with some health problems and I knew we wouldn't be together again for a long time. We had a friend drive us to the airport and just leave us at the door - no long farewells. A very nice porter took our stuff and we were only charged for one extra piece of luggage - no weight overage charges. He got a good tip. And then we were on the plane and headed off - next stop Gatwick Airport and London.

Countdown to departure - phase II

A trip to Tut's Tomb provided the gear we needed to go off to Colorado camping for the next month or so. Jack took his fly fishing equipment just in case he should want to tempt a wily trout. We started out and in South Dakota ran into what I'm convinced was a tornado. Luckily we were able to shelter under a concrete overpass - but even then the wind, coming from all directions in turn, threatened to capsize us.

It had come out of nowhere and was over in minutes leaving a bright blue sky. We emerged from our shelter and saw cars and trucks that had been tossed about and overturned. The scariest was a camper that had passed us shortly before with a little girl in the back who had waved at us as they passed. The camper was lying on its side and burning - I was shaking and horrified. We stopped for the night in a motel because both of us were too shaken to continue. We talked about fate - how one can get up in the morning, looking forward to the day, and suddenly be picked up and smashed by forces completely beyond one's control. It made us even more convinced that a person should do what he can in life while health and opportunity still exist.

The rest of the trip went beautifully - we drove through the high mountains, camped in meadows, ate trout for breakfast, walked through aspen woods, visited with friends and family, heard elk trumpeting in the high valleys, and best of all, spent four days in Mesa Verde. We had only expected to spend a day or so - but the mysticism of the place captured us completely and we clambered around through the cliff villages and gazed off accross the Mesa to the Four Corners and Ship Rock.

It was a lovely way to spend the time of waiting before returning to our friend's hospitality and the final preparation for departure to Scotland.

Countdown to departure - phase I

We arrived hot and sweaty at our friends home, carrying what we figured we'd need for the next few weeks. They gave us a lovely welcome and a delicious dinner and let us settle into their basement apartment. We discovered that it was a walk-out and right outside the door was a patio and pool. Not too shabby!

We spent the next few weeks finishing up some work - and having friends over for pool picnics and impromptu musical interludes. In the evenings we'd have dinner with friends - spending as much time as possible with them before we left. After a few weeks recovering from our move, and visiting with my parents at their lake home for a while, we packed up and moved our stuff over to another friend's place to prepare for the next phase.

Good-bye to our house

This was our house when we decided to move. Now the flowers and birds (including a pair of mallards) were gracing the yard and it was hard to think of leaving it all.

We packed like crazy for a month & moved most of the stuff we wanted to save to our storage room (now affectionately known as Tut's Tomb). Then we ran a 3 day garage sale. We'd been pretty ruthless in choosing what to sell. It was especially nice to see so many books go to new owners - fun to see people get really excited to have found what was to them a prize. What stuff we didn't sell we gave or threw away.

Then there were the cats. It was hard to say good-bye to them. We did shed some tears - but I knew they were going to a good home.

Finally we had the house closing and got the place clean and ready for the new owners. On a stormy, rainy, hot day we closed the door for the last time and drove away.

It seemed strange. I had expected to feel emotional about leaving a house where we had been happy and raised our kids. We'd even done the remodeling in the last year that had made the house just exactly the way I wanted it. But somehow I never looked back. My bags were packed and I was ready to go. It was exciting - a whole new chapter was there to be written - and I was anxious to see what would happen.