Last week, I slipped out of the U.S. of A. and made my way across the pond. To London.
Better yet, on Thursday morning, I shoved my way through the masses in Waterloo station where I hopped the train to Winchester. And though she’s not actually in Winchester, that was as close as I could get for a glimpse of our dear Duchess Downith.
She met me outside Winchester station wearing her
plastic finest gold tiara — and really, would you expect anything less? I wish I’d snapped a photo right then, but honest to Betsy I was so surprised to be in England at all (can you say, “last minute plans?”), and to be looking our Duchess square in her baby blues, that I completely forgot myself and my camera.
There really was a tiara. I swear!
We enjoyed coffee and apricot pastries at a little outdoor cafe. We wandered down the lane and then chatted away on the steps in front of Winchester Cathedral. Clouds drifted overhead, but the rain held off. We polished off our rendezvous with lunch and a glass of champagne.
It was like being reunited with an old friend after being too long away, so engaging we almost forgot to have lunch. Imagine! We covered what we could of Books and Families and Writing and Childhoods and the Blogosphere and Mothers and School and Old Careers and Fathers (oy, Fathers) and our WIPs and still ….. you know what? We needed more time! Downith said her husband had asked, What are you going to talk about for 4 hours? Ha! Husband, you’ll be pleased to know we never shut up during what seemed like so very few minutes together; we were so honed in I barely remember the cobbled streets or what Winchester Cathedral looks like.
It all went by too fast. I felt like I’d just arrived, had just spotted that
plastic fine gold tiara, and the next thing I knew the train doors had swept shut and I was speeding my way back to Waterloo station in London.
And I missed her already. Our fabulous Duchess Downith. What a pleasure.