boxes, boxes, and more . . . snow

Today was “drive to a sketchy warehouse on the east side of London and pick up our stuff” day. This involved sitting for two hours on the parking lot otherwise known as the London Orbital (aka the M25—not nearly as cool or spacey as it sounds), driving round and round an industrial complex looking for the only business not bothering to put its name on the front, and asking for directions at a place called the Rumbling Belly Cafe. (I didn’t eat there.)

But I drove away with 16 boxes of pots, pans, books, clothes, etc., so all turned out well. Who knew a few pieces of silverware and some familiar decorations could make a place feel more like home.

One more photo for now . . . and no, this is not a repeat from the last post. This is yesterday. What is going on??

easter sunday in the UK

I don’t think Easter is normally supposed to look like this here (this is our backyard—I mean, garden) . . .


And this is the church we went to on Easter Sunday (it was once pastored by John Newton) . . .


And this is one of the sights we saw in London over the weekend (a pub—still in operation—once frequented by the likes of William Shakespeare and, later, Charles Dickens).


We are a long way from home . . .

the neighbourhood


Tomorrow we move into a house in Olney. About a five-minute walk from our front door is the church John Newton served at when he wrote the song “Amazing Grace.” Not to mention a couple really good fish and chip shops . . .

I suppose it’s time I posted something . . .

Gone a long time without posting anything, but I figure gearing up for a transatlantic move is as good an excuse as any. As of this month, our new address ends with “UK” instead of “USA.”

Suffice it to say it’s been an eventful few weeks, starting with a cross-country drive from Seattle to Michigan before flying across the pond . . .

They like snow in Snoqualmie . . .

Snake River in Idaho

One hundred miles of ice in Wyoming . . .

Then there were Nebraska and Iowa, but there’s not much to take a picture of there (unless you like corn).