Christine Larsen

I kept getting that stupid Chris de Burgh song stuck in my head (...Dont pay the ferryman...) as we crossed the river Exe from Topsham to walk along the tidal estuary and eat lunch at The Turf.
 
How logical the names: the river Exe starts on the moors (Exmoor) and ends at the sea (Exmouth). Our ferryman (...dont even fix a price...) Mike is a world record holder for staying underwater with breathing apparatus.
 
We wandered a trail looking at spritely bullocks literally frolic like dogs. I've never seen meat move like that (...don't pay the ferryman...). A canal runs parallell to the Exe, and keyakers paced us. We all ended up with toasties and pints at The Turf.
 
Good thing Mike was expecting us in the return trip. He came and fetched us. We paid up (...until he gets you to the other side...) and nobody had to swim or stay underwater at all.

On my iPhone, currently in England.

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Here we are waiting for Ian McKellen,
Patrick Stewart & Simon Collow to take the stage. Not pictured: stultifying heat. They sold ice cream at intermission.
 
Ronald Pickup killed as Lucky. His monolouge brought the house down.

On my iPhone, currently in England.

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Of course were not in the countryside, were experiencing village life in Topsham.
 
The speedy rail that whisked us here, replete with charming seatmate who chatted us up pleasurably for the duration, has convinced me we need such efficiencies in America. You don't have to drive here. The trains are swift, inexpensive and frequent.
 
Topsham has one of everything you'd need: chemist, pubs, dentist, great used book store (FOUR great typography finds), French restaraunt named Petite Maison. Good friends too, which must be a requirement of life here.
 
We saw many things yesterday, the most amazing being a family of Black Swans on the river Clist (the dirtiest sounding of all the river names).
 
Today were back to London on those speedy trains after a stop at Exeter Cathedral. More later from the road...

On my iPhone, currently in England.

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A pint of the bitter and a half of the ale. Thinking @socialretard would be very happy here.

On my iPhone, currently in England.

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Indian dinner with friends, one (pictured) who required coaxing with ukelele songs to eat his pasta.
 
Now a normal bedtime in hopes that we reset. See you all tomorrow.

((tag: london))

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It took longer to get to Holland Park from Paddington station than from Heathrow to Paddington on the slow train.
 
I'm writing from the back of a cab. Our driver, a man of action, told us of a fellow he waved to who went into the preisthood because a cabbie's life was too stressfull.
 
Today he's right. The tube stike has made a rush hour nightmare, if judged by the yelling fight we witnessed with a motorcyclist and bus driver yelling at the idiot who cut them off.
 
"you got rocks up here," said the bus driver knocking his noggin, explaining that he has a full bus and can't come to quick stops without hurting people.
 
Bike riders and motorbikes swerve into and out of traffic, lane splitting which looks like head splitting about to happen to me. Who needs helmets when you have swiftness?
 
The sidewalks are full of walkers trying to get home. Walkers in suits, ladies in heels. People look hot but resigned. The bus stops snarled, every intersection packed. It's like a parade on the streets. Were it like this everyday I can imagine myself among them.
 
So there it is. Welcome to London.

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I'm not a fan of cross-posting absolutely everywhere since I think it is most lovely and gracious to post things appropriate for each venue. That said: I'm going to cross post everywhere for the next week to see how it works for our vacation journal. This is another test post and I apologize that it is not very amusing.

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