Flash

Dear all,

Seems hard to believe that my friend Elizabeth, or The Queen as we like to think of her, is back at home after a ten-day visit.  It was a very quick ten days.  We hit every boutique and tearoom I could find.  Little to no time was devoted to educational excursions, but that is why one is always welcome to read a history book.  We weren’t about to waste our time in educational pursuits when there were scones to be devoured and winding roads to explore.

I enjoyed every minute of her trip.  I think she did, too, although it was almost friendship over at a car boot sale.  Elizabeth and I have scoured flea markets and thrift stores together for years with the steadfast rule that whoever first spies the bargain has ‘dibs’.  Still, when I beat her to an ancient and exquisitely patched kilim rug  (Fabulous by the way-got it for a song), I thought she might hurt me in a very dramatic and Shakespearian way. 

In the end, she thanked me for allowing her to spend time in our movie like life and I thanked her for walking our dog.

She returned safely to the controlled or not so controlled chaos that is family life.  An award and big kiss goes to her husband, Flash (his actual summer camp nick name), who, along with the reluctant assistance of one scowling teenager, managed to clean both the garage and the basement in her absence.   

He also kept two barfing-on-the-carpet younger boys and an acutely old dog alive in her absence.  All this with only one panicked call to England.

Really, his only fault was sleeping through the boys’ Religious Ed. classes, which is a real shame because Sister Surly at Our Lady of Hopeless Progression has now doomed them to Hell.  

Who needs a vacation now, Flash?

With love from England,

T-Ann