Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


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Tuesday, June 17, 2003  


Day 15

And now it is morning. I wake at 4:30 to singing birds, dress, slip downstairs to make tea. D is already up. J follows soon, and then A. I wake BD at ten after 5 - we are all in a quiet mood. There is such sleepy tenderness in an early morning good-bye.

Our train leaves Chelmsford at 5:57, though a slower, local one leaves at 5:45. This is commuter travel - and our train is packed! The man beside me watches a sitcom on his laptop. I watch over his shoulder or else look past at my last glimpse of Essex countryside. It’s 30 minutes to Liverpool Station, 30 minutes on the tube to Paddington - which is not crowded - then about 40 minutes to Heathrow on a slick comfy smooth train.

We check in and ask for window seats together - and get them, the last 2 seats on the plane! We’re both bodysearched - it looks to me like they are counting passangers and selecting the ___th person. The woman nods for me to step out of line. The male gaurd tells BD to wait and he does, but by the time she’s through with me, he’s counted enough to select BD. It doesn’t take long, though, and everybody is very polite about it. Then we’re inside the concourse. I sit waiting, chatting with a woman who is going to visit friends in Philadelphia. BD and I take turns wandering about the airport, looking into shops. I am tempted to spend the last of the pounds at the museum shop but don’t and regret it all the way home. I do have a snack about 10:30. We leave at 11:00.

Is this really happening? Au revoir, England.

posted by Bess | 6:12 AM