Michael’s Travel Diary

April

April 1

I rented a car and set out toward Salisbury. First, I drove west, to Bath, and visited the Roman baths, for which the city is named. As I stood beside the pool in which Roman soldiers bathed some fifteen hundred years ago, I was reminded of how sacred places have remained sacred, even when religions have changed. The Church recognized this principle and used it when it located churches, designated holidays, and adapted customs. The baths were dedicated to Sulis Minerva, a name that honors both a Celtic deity and the Roman goddess. As I l stood beside the pool, I looked up. The spire of the cathedral loomed over us.

April 2

I’m in Glastonbury, tonight. It’s a mystical place, full of history, magic, and legend. It is said that King Arthur and Guinevere are buried in the ruins of the abbey. Their tombstones are there, where their bodies were re-interred during the reign of Edward the First. The king and the queen were present for the burial. Glastonbury Tor is a large, round hill near town. It is said that Arthur and his knights lie buried under the Tor – multiple legends can co-exist with ease in Glastonbury – ready to rise to England’s defense should they ever be needed. The Holy Grail, the cup used by Jesus at the Last Supper, is said to have been brought to England by Joseph of Aramathea. Legend says that it lies, buried in a well at the Tor.

My hotel once served pilgrims who came to the abbey, and part of the building is over 5oo years old. In America, we would have demolished it long ago to build a Quality Inn, or something. The beef and ale pie at dinner was outstanding.

April 3

I rode out to the Tor this morning. Shrouded in mist, it seemed as though Arthur and his knights might ride across it at any time. A footpath winds up the Tor, and I could just make out a tower at the top.

I drove to Salisbury and sketched the cathedral, then I headed north, across the Salisbury Plain to Stonehenge. I’m not sure what I expected. I rounded a curve, came over a small hill – and there it was! It looked like a set of toy blocks spread across the plain, much smaller, it seemed, than I had expected. Again, the size was a perceptual issue. The stones are massive. Archeologists have all sorts of theories about Stonehenge, what its purpose might have been. Allison once suggested that they should pay attention to the functions of our important buildings, today. The major structures in Charleston are there for government – the courthouse, the post office - for commerce – office buildings - for religion –the multitude of churches – and for defense – the naval, coast guard, and air bases.. Wouldn’t ancient humans have built for similar purposes?

I’m staying, tonight, in a small hotel in Avebury, not far from Stonehenge. Avebury is a town, built around an exceptionally large set of standing stone circles. Many see the entire plain stretching north from Salisbury as a mystical place, with intersecting lines of energy resulting in all sorts of strange, inexplicable occurrences. Residents seem simply to accept the past and to get on with their lives.

April 10

“Mind the gap!” Everyone who rides the London underground knows the phrase. It is a warning that, when you exit the car, you will find a gap between the car and the platform. It means to pay attention to the gap! Don’t fall! Alicia ignored it, once, and almost sprained an ankle. The phrase reminds me of my mother. “Mind the time,” she would say, or “Mind me,” both phrases meaning the same thing, “Pay attention.” I had always thought it was a Southern expression.

As an attorney, I’m reminded that British society is less litigious than ours. The simple warning to mind the gap just wouldn’t fly in America! If anything, it would indicate that the transit authority was aware of the problem, but had failed to correct it! Law suits would follow. At the medieval castles, the ancient ruins, one seldom sees a guard rail or an entry barrier. Small signs might warn visitors of danger, but it seems to be the visitor’s responsibility to avoid it.

April 15

My last night in London. I’m pleased with the work I have completed, a number of drawings, so many sketches that I haven’t counted them. Enough to keep me busy for months! I’m leaving for Canterbury in the morning.

I hope that my accountant filed my income tax return! He was attempting to obtain Allison’s cooperation in filing a joint return, but I’m not confident that he was successful. Allison wouldn’t speak with me; I doubt she was willing to talk with him!

Whatever. I need to eat supper and get to bed.

April 16

Cell phones are wonderful. I called Charleston. Tax returns were filed. My accountant convinced Allison’s attorney that both of us would be better off with joint filing. Honestly! I’m guessing though, that we’ll not agree to do it next year, even though we’ll be entitled to do it.

Canterbury is only a couple of hours from London. Actually, most places in England are reasonable drives from London! I’ve always been surprised when I’ve planned trips, here, at how quickly one can go from one place to another. It makes things convenient for travelers! And you use less gasoline, petrol, as they call it. The prices are awfully high, and the exchange rate between dollars and pounds is terrible. I’ve never actually calculated the price per gallon. It is sold in liters, so the calculation would require at least two transformations: liters to gallons and pounds to dollars. Anyway, I found myself spending the equivalent of seventy dollars to fill the tiny Ford that I’m renting!

Had a call from Charles Dawson, the art dealer in New York. The drawings I left with him have sold! He seemed interested in what I’m doing, here, and asked me to send him samples!

My hotel is located in the medieval wall that surrounds the Cathedral. My room looks out on the Cathedral close, almost as if I can reach out to touch the gray stone walls. The windows open for an unobstructed view. I’ll make a sketch before heading off to dinner.

April 17

I met an American at the pub last night. Mary McDonald is an art professor from UGA who is here on sabbatical. She looked at my sketch book and seemed to like what she saw. We arranged to meet later this week so she can look at some of my other work.

April 19

I drove to Dover for the day and sketched the White Cliffs. I’m not certain, but I thought that I could see land – the coast of France? - as I looked across the Channel. Then, I visited Dover Castle, high on the cliffs, overlooking the Channel. The Castle was used as late as the Second World War. The British military had a command post built in tunnels underneath the castle. Fascinating tour! It’s hard to imagine using a medieval fortress, or any other structure that is several hundred years old as anything other than a tourist attraction, but the British seem to see no problem with it.

The railway and the highway that pass through the tunnel under the Channel surface near Dover. As I returned to Canterbury, I noticed the road signs, reminding drivers that they were now in England and that they must drive on the left side of the road. A bit late to find this out, I thought!

April 20

Canterbury Cathedral is the “mother church” of the Anglican Communion, including our Episcopal Church. Like St. Paul’s in London, the nave was empty, although I was told that chairs are in place at certain times of the year. To one side of the chancel is a chapel that marks the place that St. Thomas Becket was murdered by several knights who were fulfilling the wish, if not the specific command, of King Henry II. Becket had been Henry’s friend before he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. However, once he became Archbishop, he opposed Henry’s attempts to exert control over the church. I am reminded that friends who cease to be friends often become the world’s most bitter enemies. Ask any divorce lawyer!

April 22

I met Mary McDonald tonight for dinner. I took several of my sketches and three completed drawings for her to see. I felt strange, walking into a pub with my portfolio under my arm. I could have asked her to come to my hotel, I suppose, but I didn’t want her to have the wrong idea. She seems like a very nice person, and I did enjoy talking with her the other night.

Again, she seemed to think that my drawings were quite good. It feels really good to have an art professor praising my work! It always surprises me when someone thinks that my work is good. I don’t know why; no one has ever laughed at it. Not since middle school, anyway. There was a teacher in middle school, an English teacher as I recall, who picked up my sketch pad as he walked around the class one afternoon while we were writing an essay. He happened to turn to a page where I had experimented with a cubist’s interpretation of a basketball game. He laughed at my drawing and showed it to the class. Some of the kids laughed, too. I cried all of the way home. I learned later that my father went to school the next morning. The teacher never mentioned my drawing, again.

Mary gave me the name of an art dealer in Atlanta, Carl Williams. Said he would give me a better price for my work than the dealer in New York was offering. Said she would email him to introduce me.

Mary asked about Allison. Told me a story about her and her husband, so similar to what happened to us. She and her husband reconciled. He is in London, on sabbatical, and she is going there for the weekend. She suggested that I chase Allison down like she did her husband, make her listen to me. Of course, Mary was the one who cheated. She should have apologized!

Why should I fly home to try to talk to Allison – again? I expect it would be a wasted trip! She wouldn’t listen any more than she has in the past! I think that the divorce is exactly what she wants! Well, maybe when I get home. Perhaps.

April 25

I stopped for the night in Lincoln to draw the cathedral. My route took me past Nottingham. As I sped along, off to my left, I saw clusters of nuclear power plants. I counted eight units in one group! I’ve never seen such a concentration of nuclear power in the United States, never more than one unit, maybe two. I would feel uneasy if I lived near eight!

 My directions to the hotel took me into town through one of the ancient gates. I turned left beside the cathedral. My instructions then read “right at the next light.”I turned right, but did not find the hotel. I back tracked; I didn’t see it. I parked and walked along the street. Finally, I spotted the sign. The hotel was at the intersection! “Right at the next light” meant “Right there at the light, exactly at the light,” just as it would have meant at home!

I spoke with Carl Williams. Mary had already emailed him. He told me that his company had a special interest in images of the British Isles. He asked me to send examples of my work. The Royal Post takes forever; where can I find FedEx?

April 28

York Minister, the great Cathedral of York, is across the square from my hotel. The Archbishop of York ranks just behind the Archbishop of Canterbury in order of precedence, having the title, “Primate of England” in contrast to Canterbury’s title, “Primate of All England.” With such distinctions are conflicts often settled!

April 30

I spent the day wandering around the city. A large section of the Roman wall still stands around the old part of the city. Americans don’t seem to appreciate the past as much as Europeans do. When a building is “too old,” we tear it down! Preservation of American history, particularly preservation of historic buildings has been an uphill battle in many places. Charleston has done an exceptional job of preserving its past, but not all cities have been as lucky. Our house sits on the edge of the historic area, and we have all sorts of restrictions on what we can do – what color paint we can use, alterations we can make to the house. Some people find the restrictions to be irritating, but I think, overall, they are for the best. Our house dates from the seventeen hundreds. Without the restrictions, I’m sure it would be a mid-century ranch, now. More likely, there would be an office building on the site!