Frances and I were coming home from the West End recently, about 10:30 or so, on the Bakerloo Line. We were chatting in our normal voices — louder than most Londoners would shout if they saw the number 189 bus careening toward their dear old granny but much quieter than my beloved and now-deceased Uncle…
Category: Not America
There is life and it exists, outside America. Duh.
C’mon everybody… follow me to The Lost Summer!
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Well, for those of you that wondered what happened to Colin and I this summer, here is a photo montage, not necessarily in order… very much like the European history you studied in high school, there was conflict, drama, invasions, unheaval, and Van Morrison concerts at stately homes. Enjoy! Bob, Amy and Colin in the…
Baking on Saturday
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Today is Saturday. I am sitting in my kitchen on Delaware Road, making cookies. It is quiet in the flat. Colin is at the other end, sitting at the computer, playing a game and relaxing. Through the open window, I can hear, again and again, the hollow sound of a tennis ball striking a racquet,…
A familiar fear for an American in London
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Published in The Kansas City Star, July 9, 2005 By ELIZABETH G. HOWARD Special to The Star LONDON — For the first few hours after the four explosions Thursday, it felt creepy, awful and horribly familiar. The BBC tore a page directly from an American news channel textbook: repeating the images of the decapitated double-decker…
