Those Godless British Heathens

Just had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: Oh, I’m going to be in England for Easter.
Scott: Do they care?
Me: That I’m going to be there?
Scott: About Easter.
Me: No, of course not. They are godless heathens who know nothing of magical rabbits bearing chocolate.

The truth is, I have no idea what they do for Easter over there, since I’ve never been during that time of year. I do hope there are flowers, though. If not bunnies and chocolates.


I’m returning to London at the end of March and will be there through not quite mid-April . . . Somehow I’ve never been in the spring, so I’m looking forward to seeing the city in a new way. I usually go in the summer, you see, but with the Jubilee and the Olympics, I decided to get in and out early.

This will be, perhaps, the one big drawback to living on the West Coast—being that much farther from London. One day I’ll just go ahead and get my own place there, but this time around I’m staying in Eccleston Square. I usually stay in Mayfair, but I really liked this one flat with its big windows and aquamarine walls, and it’s not as if London is hard to get around. Meanwhile, Victoria Station is right there (though I prefer walking), and I think there’s a Krispy Kreme inside, if I’m remembering right.

Whenever I go to London, people are unfailingly charming, possibly because I apparently look perpetually lost, even when I’m not. It’s that whole living-in-my-head thing again. Writer’s bane. Actually, the biggest challenge for me in London is the bathtubs. They’re always so tall and so deep I’m in danger of tripping, or drowning, or tripping then drowning. How much water these people need to clean themselves, I can’t fathom. (Ha! Fathom . . .)

If you’re hoping to find me while I’m there—or Sherlock, who will of course be traveling with me and gets recognized more often than I do—I suggest you look in the parks during the day (weather permitting; I’m not adverse to rain, but Sherlock and my writing tools are) and around the theatres at night. Do people still dress for the theatre in London? I’ll have to pack something for that . . .

And you can always check the Krispy Kreme, too.

Or the bathtub.