I’m certainly glad that I flew out of England before the volcanic ash from Iceland drifted that way. As good a time as I had, an enforced stay would have been a lot less fun.
When I drive people from the airport in Austin, I point out landmarks like the University of Texas tower, known for Charles Whitman’s killing spree, or various bars and other landmarks where famous people played.
When Martin picked me up from the airport, he casually noted, “There’s Windsor Castle.”
This picture doesn’t do it justice — this was sort of a driveby on my last day, but I love the way the castle rises over an impeccably mowed lawn.
We also visited his old school.
My high school didn’t look like this — my college didn’t look like this. This is one of the many pictures I took of Winchester. (I’m not going to make a Hogwarts comparison, I’m not going to make a … never mind. It was inevitable, and in fact I made the comparison while touring the place.)
This is the Trusty Servant. He’s sort of the mascot. There’s all sorts of symbolism explained in the side panels, but they never adequately explained the animal head.
We visited Winchester Cathedral too. I love churches. I love stained glass. I love the transfiguration of glass + light into sacredness. Considering that I’m fairly irreligious, that’s certainly incongruous, I know. But then, I have a friend who’s an avowed atheist, and she loves to sing along to Christmas carols.
To be continued…