Melrose, Scotland

I wanted to write a bit about Melrose, Scotland today.  It is the reason that my genealogy got a kick start back in the late 90s.   Aunt Betty, my father’s sister, did research for years and generously shared her findings with me.  Because I was raising my 3 daughters, I didn’t have the time or money to do much research on my own.  She sent me a family tree that went back a few generations, something to get started with she said.  I refer to it often.  It’s really special and in her beautiful penmanship, she was a teacher once upon a time.  Now that she’s gone, I really appreciate the value and how much it’s helped me over the years.

She told this to me years before I started my research.   According to her, our distant grandfather, James Melrose from Melrose Scotland, was the first of this side of the family to come to America.  The way it came about is that he was kidnapped at the age of 12 and pressed into service on an English ship and never saw his family again!  This is what good adventure stories are made of, think of Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.   Now,  when I first heard this story, I was very young and I pictured my distant relative very like James MacArthur who played the lead in the Disney movie of the same name!

As I started my research, it was important to me to try to get the facts straight and not jump to romantic conclusions.  I actually wrote to a history professor (sorry, I can’t remember his name, it was saved 4 computers ago).  At any rate, he advised me that while that is an exciting story, they usually didn’t take young boys (he was 12 at the time).  A more likely scenario is that he signed up as a cabin boy to see the world.  It is apparently what young men did in those days for an adventure.

He must have traveled for a few years and I think he probably did go back to see his family.  He met and married Mary Thompson from Carlisle, North England at some point, and probably closer to 20 than 12.  He is also mentioned in a supplementary book of the DAR for collecting fire wood for the American solders during the Revolution. He died in 1783 in New Jersey, and his son moved to West Virginia. It was his grandson, Archibald Melrose that moved to Grayville, Illinois where my father was born and raised.

The first place I wanted to visit when I started my research was Melrose, to see for myself where it all started for my father’s family going to America.  As fate would have it I learned of my cousins in Sussex and wound up starting there.  I am so happy for that and for the relationships that were forged.  However, I do so want to go to Melrose for many reasons.  I also want to point out that I have been in touch over the years with many people that are doing family research.  I have run across a few that I am distantly related to through the Scottish Melroses.  I got an email from one of them who was also from America and actually went to Melrose to check it out.  He looked up some Melroses that are still living there and knocked on the door. Apparently they were not at all impressed that they have relations in the US and really were not interested in starting an acquaintance!  Like all Americans, we think that the world revolves around us and everyone should be thrilled to be in our sphere!  I say that with all humility and humor and have learned the error of my ways over the years:)

Here are a few things that interest me about Scotland and Melrose:

The history-Melrose Abbey, Robert the Bruce and his heart being buried there, you can’t get a better story than that.  War, loyalty, love, respect, it’s all there in a bit of history if you have the intellect to be interested in history.  Also my own history, where the family lived, the graves if I can find them, the country where generations built their lives.

The rugged beauty of Scotland, I can’t say enough of how it affects me and I haven’t even been yet.  I’ve only watched it on TV and movies and read about it in books.  I have a longing to see it that I can’t explain:)

The food-I have heard that Scotland has the best and most pure salmon in the entire world ( I read it somewhere) Neeps & Tatties, Scotch Eggs, Shortbread… I will most likely not taste true haggis, but I will go for the vegetarian option.  I mean no disrespect to anyone, but it really doesn’t even look appetizing:)

I will end with this lovely dessert that I experienced in London, still it is a Scotish recipe and very delicious! I give you

Raspberry Cranachan

Happy Travels!

A Few Favorite English Gardens

When I think of gardening, I think of England. A cottage garden to me is an English garden.  So, when I go over I tend to visit a few gardens just because they make me feel so good to be in them.  But also to get ideas, learn some history and try to soak up a little knowledge to take back home.  Plus some of my best vacation photos are from English gardens.  ( I will admit here that I have a difficult time getting my pictures to post on this site, I am working on it.  In the meantime I thank Google images. I do try to only post photos that are close to ones I actually have in my albums).

Kew Garden

The Royal Botanic Garden, Kew, between Richmond and Kew in southwest London, houses the world’s largest collection of plants.  If you’re interested in gardens and plants, it’s a must see.  Plan to spend the entire day here, it’s massive, with 300 acres of beautiful and diverse plants and buildings to see.  It’s astounding to think that it was created in 1759 and still going strong.

There is every kind of garden that you can possibly imagine here.  The Palm House, above, is truly amazing to be in.  Full size palm trees and other tropical plants inside a beautiful Victorian greenhouse.  I always try to imagine how they managed to build structures like this in the mid 1800s.  Huge iron beams and sheets of glass, it’s mind boggling.  There is Kew Palace with a medicinal garden that only has plants that were grown in the 17th century.  I loved this garden with it’s wattle fencing and bee skep, very interesting.  There is also a gallery, several other greenhouse structures, the Great Pagoda which was built in 1762 and at it’s highest point is 163 feet tall!  Also a museum, library, conservatory, orangery, and one of Europe’s largest compost heaps.  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Waterlily house with giant waterlilies that will hold the weight of a man, truly amazing.  My friend Peggy has a relative that helped develop the lilies and then went on to be head gardener of the Missouri Botanical Garden!

There are guided tours, a tram that helps you get around, several cafes and a very nice gift shop where you can get lovely books and seeds.

Buckingham Palace Garden

I’ve actually seen more of this garden in magazines and on TV than in person, but I did get to do the palace tour on my first trip over and you get to walk through part of the garden at the end of the tour.  There are 2 1/2 miles of gravel paths in the 42 acre site with lush shrubs and borders.  It is beautifully kept (of course) and there is a 19th century lake with lovely weeping trees.  I guess I like it for what it is and what it represents to England and London especially.

The Queen has opened it up to guests on a few special occasions and it was one of 3 Royal sites that the Queen allowed archaeologists to excavate in 2006.  I saw it on television and they were able to verify some earlier designs and building placements.

Kensington Palace Sunken Garden

The beautiful Sunken garden was planted in 1908 and is relaxing to be in.  We just stood and looked for the longest time because it was so tranquil and attractive.  I’m not sure if there are other gardens at Kensington because the park surrounding it is so vast and beautiful, but the Sunken garden is definitely worth a look.

Hidcote Manor Garden

Hidcote is the quintessential English garden created by an American horticulturist, Major Lawrence Johnston! In the Cotswolds close to Stratford-on-Avon.  It is really lovely with multiple paved pathways, secret gardens,  long views and so much color everywhere. You ooh and ahh over a hanging vine and turn around to clusters of fragrant roses and then walk through hedges to discover something even more gorgeous, it doesn’t stop.  I wanted to put every plant on my wish list!  Really breathtaking!

From my journal when I went in 2001 “Room after room of natural beauty separated by interesting shaped hedges.  We had to move aside for blooms spilling over into the walkways”.

Stockton Bury Garden

This garden is tied with the garden at Parham House for my favorite gardens to visit (so far).  I loved everything about it, from it’s history  to the Tithe Barn Restaurant.  I’ve never seen anything so perfect and wonderful, parts of it have been there since 660!  It was originally a village that took care of the daily life of monks.  There is a granary that is covered with an espaliered wisteria, also a climbing hydrangea and a climbing fuchsia, beautiful.  Following a grass path is a long walk with peonies, shrubs, flowers of all kinds and at the end a huge round ivy covered building with a pointed roof that is a pigeon house.  The entire interior has little pigeon holes peppered about with a revolving ladder. Ingenious really, the monks could randomly pick eggs to eat!  Across a wide asphalt drive is a 1/2 round grass area with bird house up on the walls of surrounding shed like buildings, than a columned house with a lawn like Tara in Gone With the Wind.  Everywhere there are stone troughs, fountains, birdbaths, interesting benches, assorted pools, all around gorgeous plantings.  Through a gate and another grass walk to a perfect kitchen garden, a large and small greenhouse and this is only the beginning of this amazing garden. It isn’t large, at only 4 acres, but it is packed with everything you imagine a garden should have.  It really is a magical place.

Parham House

I absolutely loved this place, the house itself, the history and the lovely garden. My cousin Linda took Marcie and me here on our second visit to England.  It’s not far from where she lives in Sussex, and such lovely country.  The foundation stone to this beautiful house was laid in 1577, and if walls could talk I’m sure they would have some interesting stories.  The owners housed 30 evacuees children from London during the second world war.

 The garden is so well laid out and has such interesting plantings and sculptures.  There is a perfect miniature two story brick house called a “Wendy House”, which is not something that I was aware existed before I went here. The house sits on 875 acres, including an historic deer park.  It also boasts a Pleasure Garden, a Walled Garden, a maze, a dovecot, and a medieval church. It was opened to the public starting in July of 1948, you should really go, you won’t be disappointed.

Later that day……

Of course, after the reunion, none of us wanted to let go of our new cousins.  They invited us back to stay the night at Marjorie’s house, letting us know that it was far too late to get back to London.  As it turns out, Claire’s mother, Linda, was in the same hospital where we parked our car!  This is why she didn’t make it to the reunion that year.  Claire took us up to her room for a visit.  Her dad, Richard was also there, so we got to meet most of the family.  What warm and gracious people, it blew me away;  considering that we were virtual strangers, except for a few months correspondence.   We followed them back to Billingshurst and the church where our ancestors were married and buried.

St. Mary’s Church is so beautiful.  We are told that it was built in the 1700s.  By the time we got there, it was dusk and the church was locked, but as we looked in the churchyard for the graves of our family, the bells started ringing.  What an amazing feeling, it gave me goosebumps!  Some of the graves here are so old that they’re caved in.  Coming from Southern California where almost everything is post WWII, I had never seen anything like it.  Claire explained that the wooden coffins eventually rot away and they cave in.

She took us to her parents house where Richard and Neil, Claire’s brother, make us a cup of tea before driving us over to Marjorie’s for the night.  While there we check our email and discover that Jean is arriving at Heathrow first thing in the morning.  There is no way to get there in time and I start to get really anxious.  Because of 9/11 Jean’s flight was delayed and we had no way of knowing exactly when she would arrive.  Marcie suggests that we call Sue and Tim and get their advice.  Of course they came through for us and offered to order a car for her to be picked up and taken back to Fox Hill.

With that worry off of our minds, Richard and Neil took us over to Marjorie’s house a few miles away.  We were so glad that one of them drove our rental car and the other one followed because it was dark and the road was winding, we would still be looking for it!

We both really enjoyed our visit there and Marjorie was such a great hostess. We learned all about her husband and children, looked at old photos and just took a little bit of time to get to know each other.   She is so cute, she danced around the kitchen and told us she can still “cut a rug”.  She even did a couple of jumping jacks.  She reminded me of my Aunt Edee who was also a widow.  There was something about the determination to keep going, even though their life partner wasn’t there to go with them.

The next morning we got off to an early start, having a simple breakfast with Marjorie and then heading up to London; hoping that Jean arrived safely and was waiting for us at Fox Hill. It took us about two and a half hours, but miraculously we drove straight to the B&B without a hitch.  Sue explained Jean’s arrival for us and I was very relieved.

I still smile when I think of this story because I can so clearly visualize her coming out of customs and looking around for 2 familiar faces.  She later told me that she looked around and didn’t see me but she saw a sign with her name on it.  She thought it was interesting that someone else had the same name and hoped to catch a glimpse of them. She continued to look for us to no avail, but the man with the sign was still there.  Now,  here is this small Ukrainian woman in her 70s and the driver holding the sign was a rather large African man.  Can you just imagine him standing there probably getting a little frustrated because his passenger isn’t showing up. Finally Jean walked up to him and said that she was looking for her daughter in-law but  noticed that he has a sign with her name on it.  He said the magic words that included “Fox Hill” so she decided it was ok to take the car.

Being from Southern Cali, you tend to be a little apprehensive of every unknown.  Add to that the fact that as you get older you feel more vulnerable, which makes you more cautious.   I once would not get in a New York car service car because it wasn’t marked and how did I know it was a taxi.  My daughter that lived in Brooklyn at the time just shook her head, but really, I didn’t know and I wasn’t taking any chances.  As it turned out, I took a yellow taxi cab that was twice as expensive, the driver was rude and he was eating peanuts all the way to the airport.  You never know…

At any rate, she made it back and Sue gave her a cup of tea and then tucked her up in her room for a nap.  We were really excited to start our next leg of the trip with Jean along.  Not only had she been there 1/2 a dozen times, she has such a great sense of humor we knew it was just going to be fun!

The Family Reunion

Here is some of what I know about my ancestors.  They were from the area around Horsham, in Sussex and were a family of farmers.  In the early 1850s, a few of them left England and sailed to America.  From what I could get out of my research, farming wasn’t going so well in the UK at that time, so they set off to see if they could do better elsewhere.  There were several brothers, and William, my third great grandfather and his brother Thomas, went together.  I suspect that the leading reason they went was for love.  They sailed with some neighbors, the Johnsons, who happened to have two daughters.  William married one and Thomas the other!  Of course I don’t really know this, maybe it was a coincidence and they happened to sail on the same ship and fell in love on the long journey over. I mean what else was there to do really?   At any rate, they sailed to New York and then went on to Southern Illinois, to the small town of Grayville.  Maurice, another brother stayed on in Billinghurst and this is who Claire is related to.  So, as far as I can tell from the time William and Thomas left the family home,  we are the first generation to have gotten together again.

September 16,2001

We left the hotel in Hayward’s Heath to drive back to Chichester.  It took us about two hours to get there.  I am so excited to finally get a chance to meet Claire.  I’ve been corresponding with her now for months and the day is finally here.  Of course we had the same problem in Chichester as before, the one way traffic. After a couple of times around we get the brilliant idea of parking in a public car park and taking a taxi in.  The taxi driver thought it was hilarious, but said he understood and when he started driving there is was horrific to learn the system.  We felt a little bit vindicated.

We were the last to arrive, but as soon as we walked in I recognized Claire’s son and husband from photos that she emailed me.  There, in the corner was Claire, holding court at her laptop.  Finally, we meet and hug and laugh together.  She told Marcie and me that we were the “stars of the show”, having come the furthest. We were actually the first American’s from the family to visit.

There was Claire, her husband and son, and also her maternal grand mother, Marjorie.  This is the one that has the same maiden name as my father’s grand mother.  She is a hoot!  At the time she was 77  and said really fun English phrases like “I’ll be jiggered”.  We have got to visit with her several times since and she came to California to visit with us once.  Marcie and I both adore her and she, thankfully is still going strong!

Another cousin that I was corresponding with is Matthew.  He is also really involved with the genealogy.  I find this surprising because my daughters are not at all interested in the family history, even now.  At the time, Claire was only about 24 and Matthew was only 25.  It’s so great to finally put a face on him as well and get to know him a little bit.  His mother is also there and very nice.

There is a 70 year old gentleman named John, dressed in a plaid suit and British to the core.  I took a good look as I was talking to him and got very teary because it dawns on my how much he looks like my late father.  The blue eyes, the hairline, shape of his face, everything.  The only thing really different is the clothes.  My dad grew up on a farm in Illinois and became a plumber.  When I think of him, he is always in a white t shirt and Levi jeans.  I explained to John why he had this effect on me.  I think he was touched by that revelation.

There were lots of others for us to meet.  John and Kathy and their son Andrew.  I was surprised to find out that Kathy is not the one I’m related to, but she is the one that is doing all of the family research.  I understand.  You get so wrapped up in discovering new people to add to the family tree.  One find will lead to dozens more and it goes on and on.  The very fortunate thing for us is that our families are from England where the records go back hundreds and hundreds of years.   Also, there is Glynnis and her daughter Hannah.  She has got a lot of research done on her line, but I didn’t get to talk to her as much as I would have liked.

It was amazing meeting and talking to all of these people that have some of the same DNA, checking out the connections and some of the family history.  Claire told me that they had already had a few reunions, but every year there were more people that turned up.

Although this was a lovely hotel, the chef didn’t turn up for work that day and they couldn’t feed us, so off we go across the street to a pub for a nice lunch.  In some ways I enjoyed this more.  We spent time hearing personal stories about everybody’s lives and comparing family traits.  Then we played our favorite game of comparing the likes and differences of America and England.   They cleared up a few mysteries of “what do you call this or that”?  I finally learned a few of the slang words for money.  Being a banker, I like to be clear on how money works.  I learned how to use quid, pound, pound sterling, bob, pence, etc.; and they learned the same in American English.   You hear these phrases your entire life but you don’t really know how to use them until you go there.  I am one that really likes to get into the culture and understand it.  I do make comparisons, but only as a point of reference so that I can truly remember what it is.  I love the differences and I’m pretty sure that the familiar things are familiar because we have the same heritage, if only up to a point.

Here is a photo of everyone from that day.  It was so amazing and I will always remember that first introduction to my extended family across the sea.

 

A few funny travel stories……

I’m sure everyone has a few horrible memories of traveling, we all do.  Crowded airports, late planes, missed planes, leaving something behind.  It happens, I try to let it go and move on, I don’t want it in the memory of my lovely holiday, whatever it was.

It’s the funny times, the hilarious things that happen that make me smile wherever I am and I’m thinking about some one or some place.

Here are a few stories of funny things that happened to me or to friends of mine.  I hope you find them amusing:

       My old neighbor, Ruth, went on her trip of a lifetime with a girl friend back in the early 80s.  They toured England and Scotland. She had so much fun, but said there was an “incident” in a castle B&B in Scotland.  She told me that she and her friend had considered themselves  lucky because they got to stay in an actual historical castle!  They went to bed that night in a very nice room and were awakened early in the morning by a low moaning sound.  Scared to death and upset that no one had warned them of a ghost, they got into the same bed and held each other until daylight;  at which point they discovered that someone had left the bedside radio, just slightly turned on………..

     My first trip to England was an emotional one for so many reasons.  9/11 had just happened,  we were meeting cousins that we didn’t know existed just a year before;  and then going to see the village and church where so many generations of our family had lived was very emotional for us.  After the family reunion, we picked up my arriving mother in-law, Jean, and headed south to Land’s End.  On the way we stopped at a lot of interesting places and Stonehenge was one of them.  Jean had been there before on a previous trip, so decided to stay in the warm cozy car and write postcards.  It was cold and windy so Marcie and I got about half way across the parking lot and decided to go back to the car to get our gloves.  Jean was in the back seat with the keys in the ignition and the radio on.  Coming from Southern California she naturally had locked herself in, can’t be too careful.  When I tried the door handle the alarm went off, people were stopping and looking to make sure everything was alright.  Jean got up and tried to reach the keys, but got stuck between the seats!  At this point we all started giggling, which made it hard for Jean to get to the keys. We were laughing so hard tears were streaming down our faces.  Jean couldn’t move forward or back and being 4’11”, couldn’t quite reach the keys either.  Somehow she was able to get one of the windows rolled down and I had to climb in and start the car to get the alarm to stop blaring!   Every time I hear “Stonehenge” the image of Jean stuck between the seats and us laughing our heads off is the first thing I think of!

      So, long before I got my first chance to go to England, Jean went with her friends 6 or 7 times.  Her friend Bobbi, told me a story about one of their trips over when they did a driving tour.  The first thing I should tell you is that these ladies are artists, so they made a beautiful hand lettered sign for the back of the car window that read “Have pity, American Driver”!  Bobbi is the one that I talked about in one of my earlier blogs;  she got all of her travel clothes in a thrift shop so that she could throw them away and use the room in her suitcase for things that she bought, clever idea!  She also brought her oldest, most worn out underwear.  During a day of travel they would usually pick a place ahead where they wanted to stay that night.  Then they would stop a few villages away from the designated spot at the Tourist Information shop.  For some reason on this particular day, they didn’t get to make arrangements.  It started getting late in the day and they had no place to stay when they came around a curve on a country road and saw a gorgeous manor house hotel.  They decided it was getting late and they would just splurge and stay in this exquisite inn. So they got their bags up to their room, did a quick clean up and went down to the dining room for a bit of dinner.  When they got back to the room an hour later, they discovered that the hotel maid had come into the room, unpacked their clothes and turned down the beds.  This would have been really special, but Bobbi went into the bathroom and found that her worn out underwear had been carefully hand washed and hung up to dry on a rack. She was mortified!

     As you can tell, my mother in-law has a great sense of humor.  On a previous trip she took my middle daughter and her cousin to London and then on a bus tour.  Although the girls were 18 at the time, Gramma didn’t want to let them out of her sight in a foreign country.  They happened to be on the tube at rush hour and if you’ve never been, it is an experience.  You can be packed in like sardines and it’s a little daunting to get on or off.  So of course they were coming close to their stop and she was getting a little nervous about all three of them getting off together in the middle of all these people.  A kind woman on the tube said “you just have to push your way through dear”.  When the train slowed, Jean took it to heart.  Pushing the girls before her,  saying “coming through, excuse us, we need to get off” in a raised voice.  According to the cousins, when she finally got to the door, she turned around to the people in the car and, waving her arms around,  said very loudly “God Bless us everyone”!!

     When we finally got to stay with my cousin Linda in Sussex, we were eager to learn the way that normal, everyday English families live.  We seriously wanted to immerse ourselves in English culture and just be like regular English women.  So to that end, Marcie and I were really excited when Linda asked us if we’d like a hot cuppa.  We stood with her in her kitchen,  positive that finally we were going to experience a real English cup of tea.  We both leaned in expectantly as she put on the electric kettle of water, got out the teapot and cups, cream pitcher and sugar bowl.  She laid out spoons and saucers and a plate of little cakes.  We waited, holding our breath for the final ingredient, the magic English tea and strainer.  She was looking at us like we were nuts and then she reached into a canister and pulled out three tea bags!  We did in fact have a real English cup of tea,  I guess we were expecting Jane Austin to make it!

I would love to hear your humorous travel stories, please post in comments if you can think of any you’d like to share.  Looking forward to hearing from you:)

Driving in England

September 15, 2001

The day is finally here for us to leave the security of Fox Hill B&B to drive down to Sussex.  After hanging out in London these past 5 days, we were terrified.  Sue and Tim were also worried about us and offered to drive over near Victoria Station to pick up the rental car and then drive us out to the A23 so we don’t get lost in London.  Having never driven the opposite way before, this was a tremendous gift to us!  Marcie gamely took the first turn!

Driving in London seemed very hairy.  Most everything was built long before cars were thought of.  The streets are already narrow and yet cars are parked on both sides of them.  Street signs are either non-existent, they are up on the side of a building, or the street name changes right in the middle.  It moves pretty fast.  Then there are the roundabouts.  If you’ve never negotiated one, it’s a bit confusing.  Somehow people have learned how and when to yield and it all works for them.

Being from Southern California, we are used to very efficient freeways and almost any busy part of a city is four lanes.  We would not blink an eye if, say, we wanted to go shopping or to a restaurant 60 miles away.  You jump on a freeway and you’re there in less than an hour.  We soon discovered that you absolutely cannot gauge the time by the distance you are from something.

We left from the outskirts of London and it was nice getting out on a more open road. It is such beautiful country there.  It really didn’t take us too long before we got to Billingshurst where our ancestors left to go to America in the 1850s.  It is so beautiful and quaint and we both wondered why anyone would leave there.  Me, being the dork that I am made tentative arrangements to meet our cousin Claire.  We had been emailing back and forth for months, but never did we set a place or exchange phone numbers! I guess it runs in the family because she didn’t think of it either!

We went to a pub to try to find the number in a phone book and I couldn’t for the life of me remember anyone’s last name; except her Grandmother’s maiden name, and that only because it was my father’s Granny’s maiden name as well.  We finally gave up and headed down to Little Hampton, which is where Claire and her husband lived at the time.  Unfortunately, they weren’t listed in the phone book.   We then, as only a typical American would,  drove over to Chichester where the actual family reunion would be the next day.  Now this to me was almost as bad as driving in London.  It is a one way system, so all the traffic goes one way and once you get in that loop, it’s hard to get out.  We must have spent a couple of hours trying to find the Bedford Hotel where the reunion was planned.  We passed it once, but couldn’t figure out how to get back to it!  It would have been nice to stay the night there and then relax a bit before the reunion.

By this time it was close to 5 o’clock and we hadn’t had any real food all day.  We were starting to get a little nervous.   It had been really stressful driving all day, not being able to find anyone, in a foreign country and there was no room at the inn.  Apparently there was an old car rally of some kind and everything was full up.  We stopped at a hotel and they kindly called and got us a room in Brighton!  We didn’t know the difference, so we headed over to Brighton.  It was dark and we were tired and we drove around that city for at least 45 minutes before we gave up.

Now it’s around 8 pm, Marcie is exhausted from driving all day but we didn’t dare switch.  I haven’t yet had the pleasure of driving here and now it’s dark with lots of traffic. We thought we would just start driving west and stay away from the coastal towns,  looking  for anything at all.  We halfway joked about having to sleep in the car.  We came to this really cute town called Lewes, pronounced “Lewis”.  Narrow streets, quaint buildings and lots of tourists, but also no vacancies.  They tell us to go to a place called Hayward’s Heath.  It’s pitch black outside, nearly 9 0’clock and we still haven’t eaten anything.  We finally spot a hotel and turn in. It has two singles left, it’s kind of pricey, but at this point we are happy to take it.  Marcie ordered room service, but for once in my life, I’m too tired to care anymore.  A hot bath and sleep are all that’s needed.

Tomorrow is the reunion and I just want to sleep so we don’t look like zombies!