Oh, the People You Meet ...

... when you do what I do.

Some Highlights from a Tour of a Small Island:

Meeting Emma in Chesterton.  The woman drove an hour and a half to see my show (on British roads, which is like driving in a five-story parkade at 60 MPH for 90 minutes, and mind you don't nick the chrome on the walls), and was wonderful and sweet and kind and effusive in her compliments afterwards.  Wish we'd had more time to spend with her - but I suspect we'll meet again.

Meeting up with Joy and Glenn in Belfast.  They're the kind of friends that you can be away from for a long time - in this case, I'd last seen them eight years ago - and when we get together, it's like not a heartbeat of time has gone by.  Except, of course, everybody else looks older.

Meeting Tricia and Jim Black and family in Thurton, Norfolk.  They were wonderful and hospitable and funny and interesting and generous and kind.  Lots of times I say "Well, if you're ever in Canada, please stop by." and I'm not completely sincere (unless I said it to you, in which case, I was).  But in this case, I really do hope they come and visit, if only so I can repay even a fraction of their kindnesses.

Our reunion with Jackie.  Jackie Ashbridge came to stay with us one summer when she and our older daughter Erin were both 12.  Jackie lives in the same house she did then - an attached two-story in a clean but modest working class neighbourhood in Belfast.  But the angry graffiti from her childhood still scars the walls nearby.  It tells you this was a place where the Troubles had real meaning, and families were only too happy to send their children away for the summer to get out of what was a war zone.

Jackie was a lovely guest - after the initial shyness wore off, she fit right in with my daughters and got the same constant teasing and tweaking they had to endure - and endured it with every bit as much mischief and humour as my girls.  We were sad to see her go, especially knowing that the chances of seeing her again were not the best.

But on this trip, Glenn took us around her neighbourhood.  We knocked on the door at the only address we had.  No answer.  We were about to turn away when a woman from a nearby house returned home.  We asked if Jackie still lived there.

"Sure and she does," said the woman, "She'd be after fetching her little girl from school, I reckon."

We couldn't wait around, so I pushed my business card - which had my UK mobile phone number on it - into the mail slot and hoped for the best.

She called a half hour later, thrilled we were in Belfast and insistent we come by for a spot of tea.  We did, and met her little girl Jordan and looked at her photo albums (in which I had far more hair than I do now, but was also far chubbier, so there was a trade-off), and all in all had a lovely visit.  And we're going to stay in touch.

Jane and Ed Brown in Langley-on-Tyne were lovely and warm hosts who offered us many kindnesses.  Ed is a publisher and designer and runs a cool travel website .  They have two lovely children and perhaps the most pattable dog in existence.

Some highlights that weren't related to people we met, except tangentially:

Sitting on a Sunday afternoon in a pub just outside Manchester, watching Manchester defeat Newcastle 2 - 0 in football, then Arsenal defeated Liverpool 2 - 0 ... and finally Britain played France in an International rugby match.  I guess that's as close to burrowing into the heart of England as a person can get.

Wandering around the Malvern Hills.  Another Sunday afternoon, and the hills were alive with hikers.  Brits really love to go for walks, and on this afternoon there were no end of people on the well-groomed pathways.  And yet, once you got to the top, you felt as if you were the only one who ever had been there.  Small wonder that so many artists have claimed inspiration just from being there.

Oh, and had I slipped and tumbled down the hill ass-over-teakettle, I totally would have yelled out "Aaaassss Youuuuuuuu Wiiiiissssshhhhhhhhhh!!!!!".  Just so you know.

Walking on Hadrian's Wall.  Well, not me personally, because I don't vandalize world historic monuments by walking on them in defiance of signs posted to prevent that very kind of activity.  But I did walk beside Hadrian's Wall, leaned on it, admired it, and drank in the historical significance.  All the time saying "You're really not supposed to do that, you know."

We spent close to an hour looking for "Robin Hood's Tree".  That's the tree that Kevin Kostner sat in near the beginning of Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves when he observed a young urchin being pursued by soldiers.  A big fight ensued, which Robin's sidekick Morgan Freeman was oblivious to, and if you've seen the movie, you're already with me and if you haven't, well, I lost you at "Kevin Kostner".  Anyway, we were evidently very close to the tree, but sadly, didn't get a chance to get a pic of me in it.

To the right is my Flickr link - I'm so proud to have learned how to use it.  What I didn't learn was how to make the pictures appear in the order I want them to, so the photos are kinda random.  But I've included some notes, so you won't get lost.

OK, off to visit some blogs I've been missing for the past three weeks.  And yes, yours was one of them.

Comments

[Gerah]

I have that exact stone-face (last photo in your flickr slideshow) in my perennial garden.

Love the "Children's Play Area/Beer Garden" sign as well. That's my kind of place.

Looks like you had a memorable time.

[Bucky Four-Eyes]

I just wanna know about those sexy, sexy sheep.

[Laura]

Loved the flikr picts, Nils. I couldnt comment on them because I don't have a flickr account. It was so good to see the countryside through your pictures. Everything was just gorgeous!

[candace]

"Oh my sweet Westley; what have I done?"

I'll check out the pictures later...right now I've got laundry to do. I know, I know...you're jealous of the spectacularly amazing life I lead.

[Ern]

We missed you too. And I'm sure after your tumble, you would have hiked your own ass back from whence you came, broken bones, lacerated scalp and ruptured spleen be damned, carrying your wife the whole way.

[kalki]

So often, people are what make places. And that's why I'm so glad you're back here, in this internet place.

[milly in Fl.]

Too bad you did not meet a McLaughlin or Haggerty there. My Irish father also hated those "damned idiots" who came out of the wood work for St. Patricks day. He also hated the English. "Trinity" was an eye opener book about Ireland. Ever read it?

[Nils]

I loved "Trinity", Millie - in fact, so many of the places in that book were on our Belfast tour. And I'm intrigued that you have some Irish in you. I'll bet someone in your family has a quick temper and a taste for the nectar of the Gods.

[whfropera]

nuh-uhn!!

[milly]

me dear ole dad liked a nip or two. maybe more than a nip or two, but not very often with four of us to provide for. He hated the English. The Irony is that last year my niece did a family history on my mother' side and found that her family came her from England in the 1700s. I wonder if my father would have married her if he had know that! He and his sibblings were born in Pa.