Above is where I have been sitting for the past six hours. I have been fighting a cold all week. My regular antidote of exercise, vitamins and denial have not been working. So today, I raised the white flag and stayed under a blanket all day, only to shuffle outside in a down feather coat and wooly boots to take and collect the girls from school. On a day like this, the 5 minute walk to school is a lifesaver. In Copenhagen, I dreaded the school runs when I wasn’t feeling well and would waver between the options of bike or bus, neither sounding particularly appealing.
In case you missed it on my Instagram feed, we had a bit of snow last week…or was it the week before? It was so brief, I’m not actually sure it happened at all. Although I do have some pictures to prove it. I went for a run in Richmond Park that day and I don’t think I have ever found it so lovely and serene. In hindsight, I wish it would have snowed more this winter, but now, I am already yearning for spring.
Last week my parents celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary. In honor of that, we took a walk down memory lane last weekend. Not our memories, but theirs. The fact that so many places remain unchanged, is one of the most charming aspects of England. I am completely enchanted by the idea of visiting the homes of Beatrix Potter or the Bronte sisters and pubs where Shakespeare and Dickens used to hang out (not together, of course). Visiting the old haunts of my parents is much like turning the pages of my own prequel. I’m sure that my parents would not have imagined that their granddaughters would be going to school in a neighborhood bordering the town where they were married.
We drove to East Molesey (about 15 minutes away) to find the house that my dad owned in the early 1970s, when he met my mom. They dated for less than a year, were married in nearby Thames Ditton and moved to Honduras immediately after their wedding (another, much longer story). The lights of the house were on and there was a car parked in front, but that didn’t stop us from taking a couple quick snaps. I’m not sure if the house has changed much from what my dad remembers, but to me, it didn’t really match the other houses on the street. It was one of the only ones that is still tiny and cute.
The street backs up to the Thames and we took a walk along the river path. We soon discovered that rowing races were taking place on the river. The path was crowded with people shouting, “Come on lads, keep it up! Don’t give up now, boys!”
It was a cold, damp-feeling day. We found a place to warm up with tea and sandwiches, in Hampton. On the way, I was captivated by the many antique stores and wanted to browse, but cold toes and empty bellies were the prevailing decision makers in our group. I will be back, Hampton!
Fittingly, I found my mom’s tea set pattern, which might be the most popular in England. Of course, this is why she selected it many years ago.
We parked on a street that had some beautiful homes, like this one. I have to come back in the summer and see this Wisteria!
After tea we were really rushing, because we were trying to beat the darkness. The sun (if it had been out that day) was setting and we hadn’t found the church yet. We weren’t sure if it was the right one. It was in the place my dad had described, but had a different name. I took a picture, full of hope that it was indeed the church where my parents were married on February 4, 1972.
Sure enough, it was.