We're on a boooaaattt and it's going fast, yo

Dear Reader,

Currently on the River Thames, we're making the pilgrimage Henry VIII-style to Hampton Court Palace (given to or appropriated by the king courtesy of Cardinal Wolsey). It's a 3 hour cruise, so we have time to catch everyone up on our doings & impressions.

Yesterday was another whirlwind, starting with the London Eye (I stared down my fears-- no little pill necessary). Built by BA, the trip is characterized as a "flight." So, Max, we thought of you and wished you were with us! Walked from there down the south bank through parts of Southwark (home of The Globe, lit by the celestial angels in my mind's eye). Looked in vain for The Tabard Inn, start of the pilgrimage in _The Canterbury Tales_ (as Max and Isabella well know). We crossed back to the city via the Millennium Bridge looking at St. Paul's. Our friend Russ met us for lunch in Barbican--he took us to The Bleeding Heart, a pub with a wonderful macabre story and superb lamb burgers. Then off we went to the National Portrait Gallery to see the magnificent Tudor paintings--that Tudor red hair gene must have come from Elizabeth York (wife of Henry VII). We debated which of Elizabeth's favorites was the foxiest and then paid homage to the tiny drawing of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra and to the oil painting of Mr. James Joyce, both also radiantly lit by celestial angels to me.

Finally to Harrods for some sneakers and toys (Julian, thank you for reminding us that Emmett needed some toys). It is true that you can find anything at Harrods--riding gear, guns, live animals. Loved the bronze statue of Diana & Dodi carried to paradise by a large bird. Somehow it wasn't quite as moving as the memorials in Westminsterr Abbey. But Harrods, wow!

Gasp, PK just suggested we move to the UK for a year après Australia. Uh, yes! He's been seduced; I wouldn't have thought it possible.

Thank you for bearing with me dear readers. More later... I'm missing the splendid houses on the banks of the Thames, the crews rowing their shells, and the colorful commentary by our intrepid boat captain.

Love, Sid