England: The May Edition

O, The Merry Month of May!

May is arguably the most beautiful time of year to return home to my native England. Spring is in full bloom, the countryside glows a verdant green, and the long evenings bring a relaxed energy. Having traveled through Bath, London, and Nottingham, I’ve now returned to my dad’s house, in the East Anglian Fens, where I was born and raised. In May especially, the flat landscapes, open skies, and quiet waterways are timeless. Across England, gardens bloom, pub terraces fill on a sunny afternoon and evening, and the season brings out a softer, more vibrant side of the country before the height of summer arrives.

It’s not typical for me to start a trip back to the UK without first heading an hour north on the train from London’s King’s Cross to unpack my case, place my feet on familiar home ground and integrate into the eight-hour time difference in the comfort of my childhood home.

But this year’s trip was different. Lesley and Gail, dearest friends and fellow British ex-pats anchored in Petaluma, California just happened to be in the UK visiting family at the same time as me this spring. Enough of a cross-over to make a fun five nights of it immediately upon my landing, and somewhere special. The bucolic Roman/Georgian city of Bath fit the bill for all three of us and, after our meet-up by the Paddington Bear statue in Paddington Station, we headed to the west country by rail.

There’s something about traveling with girlfriends who have traveled together for short getaways for years, if not decades. We all agree on what we’d like to see and do and the level of go-go-go in balance with a little slow and no-go evenings, salad-and- something-easy supper back at the vacation rental, followed by a couple of hours of feet up in a cozy English styled living room.

We walked the city and its perimeter, toured a period house museum, the Roman Baths, walked a river path to a medieval tithe barn by the river at Bradford Upon Avon, lunched in an historic tea house and stepped down into the oldest bakery in Bath, took afternoon tea at the Pump Room and soaked in the mineral waters of the city’s modern, municipal spa. It was marvelous.

It was fortuitous timing to catch the stunning Zandra Rhodes A Life in Print exhibit at The Holburn Museum.

I spent a couple of hours at the Records Office beneath Bath Guildhall, researching more about Bath in the early 1900s during the childhood and formative years my great grandmother, Florence, who was born there. I’m hoping to write at some stage, about Florence and the world she lived in from the turn of the 20^th Century almost to the turn of the 21^st.

The receptionist in the Guildhall invited me to go take a look at the grand ballroom, upstairs, as it wasn’t in use that morning. What a history it holds. I closed my eyes and could hear the skirts of the Regency and Georgian ballgowns of Austen’s era swishing amidst polite conversation, gossip and music.

We girls parted company back in Paddington as Lesley prepared to return to Northern California, Gail awaited the company of her husband, Michael and I traversed London for three nights near South Bank as base to cram in as much activity as possible with my two southern-based sisters and nieces.

There’s nothing like walking to dinner at the oldest restaurant in London, enjoying a traditional and outstanding British fare (thank you Lindsey) and later walking back across Westminster Bridge after nightfall. Sunday, we took in the Tate Modern before an elegant and delicious Shakespearean themed early birthday afternoon tea at The Swan, next door to The Globe. Bank Holiday Monday made for an extra day together to travel up to the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park for a visit to the V&A East and stunning Storehouse in Stratford before cheering along and catching super nieces score medals at a regional swimming gala in the Olympic pool.

My musician brother happened to be playing a live gig in a venue in Nottingham on Tuesday evening and thanks to the convenience of the British Rail service I shot up to the midlands for pre-show supper and catch-up and a seat in the bar for the show. It’s been many years since I’ve seen him perform live in person and it was super fun to see him in action with his band on top form.

I’m not too fond of hauling a large case and hand luggage with laptop and all the usual stuff I tend to need when I’m away from home in California for a while. But I refuse to be defeated when it comes to zipping around a country that actually has public transportation as a priority. It’s fascinating to me to be a part of thousands of people whizzing around London, up and down and cross country and marvel at how it all interconnects. There are plenty of problems with the trains on a regular basis, but I haven’t had any issues as yet this trip.

I took advantage of left luggage at St. Pancras for a couple of hours to visit with another friend from Petaluma, Katherine, who was in London readying for a trip to Bath with her husband. Small world and wonderful to be on a different continent in the same spot at the same time. We wandered up to Coal Drop Yard for coffee and back again for me to catch my train.

I’m writing this at Dad’s dining table. I picked crimson peonies from his garden this morning and placed them in a vase I positioned in the middle of the table. I meant to keep notes while racing around the country, but sometimes it’s better to let go of it all, immerse and enjoy.

Things that did strike me as fun and quirky along the way, cats on narrow boats, magpies, a lone fox, late at night, standing in front of a medieval building on my walk back from dinner in London. A trio of Nottingham retirees on their way for a pint at the oldest Inn in England (definitely an ‘oldest’ theme) who invited me to slide back down the hill on my giant case and join them for a beer! The conspiracy theorist older woman who sat opposite me on the train from Nottingham to Peterborough and couldn’t tell me where she was going because “they” were watching. She did tell me all about the robin she had befriended by her cottage window, which would sit on her hand each morning.

I’m here to visit with Dad and my mother-in-law who lives not far from him, aunt, uncle, family and the friends I’m able to see while in town. I’ve a big birthday that’s up-coming, the kind that gives one greater pause for thought than any of the past. Thankfully, I’m finding that travel has a way of pulling us beyond the rhythm of our everyday concerns and reminds me how many different ways there are to live, think, and see the world.

Whether crossing continents or simply returning to familiar places with new eyes, each journey reveals alternate realities shaped by landscape, history, culture, and memory. It teaches me that no single perspective is complete, and that even ordinary moments can feel extraordinary when viewed from somewhere unfamiliar. In moving through the world, I often discover not only new places, but new versions of myself.