My mother’s last trip to London was 20 years ago. The food was British, the weather was hot, and Margaret Thatcher was prime minister. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my mother was toting around two children that were wholly uninterested in seeing London, one of whom (guess who?) fell asleep in the middle of a trip to the British Museum.
My mother is visiting, so yesterday my boyfriend and I took her on a day trip from London to Bath. We got an early start, but still met with surprisingly big crowds on the train from London. I think I take it for granted that most of my UK train travel is done on weekdays when it’s not uncommon for me to have an entire train car to myself. Nonetheless, we fought our way through the carriages and managed to find seats for the journey to the Roman spa town.
My high school English teacher used to lead a trip to England every summer. He took students to see the literary highlights of London, the birthplace of Shakespeare, and the mysterious sarsen stones near Salisbury. Students returned from England raving about the sights they saw and the beer they imbibed, but the one facet of the trip that always piqued my curiosity was the day trip to Stonehenge. I made it a goal to go there someday.
My close friends and family know that it has always been my dream to be a housewife. I love to cook and clean, sew and iron, and I can’t wait until the first of my ten children is born. What a wonderful life it will be!
Moving to London has been great so far, but sometimes I feel like I’m going to go crazy playing homemaker while I’m working on finding a job. The movers came a few weeks ago and my boyfriend and I have spent a lot of time moving our belongings in and creating a space we enjoy living in. We finished the last of the big furniture assembly work last night, and our flat is finally looking like a home and less like an abandoned warehouse.