Fiery conversations, cold Hefeweizens, and breathing the same air as my old friend Lindsey on Canary Wharf.
An hour conversation in which my friend, Gemma, describes how she got engaged – the most hilarious and touching marriage proposal I have ever heard. Nothing can beat a proposal in which the lady is still wearing her shower cap, and has yet to insert her contacts.
Being asked to be part of a wedding from one of my first California friends, Rachel. Four days in Austin, Texas next year, here I come!
Greg’s blackened, uncut toenails. Why a highlight? It was just too bizarre.
Wine, cheese and antipasti with Charlie and Eileen (my parent’s of the west coast) in our apartment in Bristol. Just like we used to in Long Beach.
The cathedral in England’s smallest city – Wells.
Pub Quiz at the Clifton Pub. We came in third, but with being three foreigners as our weakness, I was pleased with that result.
Oxford. A smile spread across my face as we entered the city and didn’t come off for the entire two days. “I want to move here,” I said to Jock for the twentieth time, “Have I said that already?” The masses of students give the old, venerable city a young, infectious energy. Bicycles keep the air clean and your eyes sharp as you cross the streets. Oh, so much more to say, but I’ll leave it at this – I want to move there.
Oh, and one more thing – Apparently, Oxford has retained all of its historical beauty because Hitler planned on making it his capital when he conquered England. Hence why London was torn to shreds. I read that in a “Best of England Pubs” brochure, so not sure how much accuracy that statement yields…but it’s fascinating if it is.
Pub crawl in Oxford. I found A Literal Girl. No, really, she exists. Miranda has a blog that I follow faithfully. When I say faithfully, I mean she is one of the rare blogs that I really look forward to reading and seek out her new posts. She writes eloquently, with meaning and has such insight into the fine details of life. She’s another American lady who lives in Oxford with her clever, charming English boyfriend, Xander. She showed us her city, and helped me to fall in love with it that much more.
Tea and cake with Jock in the sunshine with Stonehenge in the background. To be able to sit and have tea on the outskirts of Stonehenge discussing my future with the man I love – you can’t get any better than that.
An Engagement party.
Wales. No matter what anyone says – Wales is a magical country. Charlie, Eileen and I all agreed that we could spend two weeks trekking through the Brecon Beacons (that was the place Jock tried to take me on my birthday last year, but massive thunderstorms later, it failed.). We popped in the only castle owned by a Welshman in Wales – Carreg Cennen, walked along the farm, hiked 2.5 kilometers, popped by the nearby ancient market town of Llandeilo and grabbed a white chocolate, raspberry ice cream from the specialist shop on the corner.
Charlie and Eileen are able to get to France by the Chunnel, but their flight has been canceled to the USA. Who knew a volcano would cause such air traffic havoc?