of owls and snails and all things Scottish

Well, it’s near­ly mid­night here in Lon­don and I’ve just fin­ished a spate of phone calls across the pond, designed to stave off my home­sick­ness, and I must say it’s effec­tive! Just describ­ing for peo­ple what’s been hap­pen­ing and how hap­py we’ve been makes it hard to feel sor­ry for myself.

Tomor­row Avery and I have a free day, with no play­dates, no trav­el, no John, so I think our plan will be to vis­it the May­fair branch of the pub­lic library, bran­dish­ing what­ev­er con­fus­ing paper­work I can bring with me to prove that I’m either Kris­ten Cur­ran, or Kris­ten Fred­er­ick­son, whichev­er one I am on a giv­en piece of cor­re­spon­dence through the Roy­al Mail, and get me an Eng­lish library card. Then per­haps tea at Clar­idge’s? We have not indulged in that joy since per­haps the sec­ond or third week we were here, in no con­di­tion to appre­ci­ate it tru­ly. Pre-blog! Does such a time even exist?! So more tomor­row about Scot­land, but in the mean­time feast your eyes on this adorable, dare I say it, pic­ture of Avery on the lawn of the Cas­tle Hotel, and the gor­geous place itself. Bliss.