So, Dad, Interrupted and I were sitting in Sky Harbor International Airport, surrounded by a mountain of carry on luggage, when he asked me: “Why London?”

This, of course, was shorthand for “Why have you been talking about London for so long, and we’re spending thousands of dollars to go there, sitting in uncomfortable economy class for ten hours and leaving the house and dogs in the hands of an army of trusted grown children and friends?”

And the answer is:

• I don’t know, and
• Maybe it’s in my DNA (all those British ancestors), and
• My brother Patrick was an ardent anglophile ’til the day he died, and
• All of the Above or maybe
• None of the Above

All I know is this: I’ve long been a fan of anything British, and over time my fascination with the history of the place has just grown. Several years ago, a coworker told me during a random, idle conversation that he was being taken to London and he didn’t know what the heck he’d even do there.

I may have shouted. I did read him the list of all the things I’d want to see in London. He later told me that it was a pretty good list.

I’ve never watched a royal wedding, but I dragged my seven-month pregnant rear out of bed in the wee hours to sob through Diana’s funeral. I will read anything that covers Edward VIII’s abdication from the throne. I’ve watched hours of virtual tours of Westminster Abbey. I’ve listened to thousands of hours of audio books about long-dead monarchs.

And I want to see them for myself.

My fascination with the British Isles makes no real sense, but the trip makes all the sense in the world.

I’ve learned a lot about Dad, Interrupted in all this, too.

The other day, I mentioned to DI that the Mary Rose, Henry VIII’s warship, is in Portsmouth and may be worth seeing while we’re in the country.

He immediately began expounding on its final battle and why it sank. Spoiler Alert: it has something to do with people leaving the windows open. Disclaimer: I know that my last sentence is a horrible over/understatement, because DI talked about those open windows for fifteen minutes when I mentioned this ship.

He did the same thing when my niece mentioned the Bayeux Tapestry; for about ten minutes, he amazed us all with a knowledgeable discourse about the Battle of Hastings and why it was so important and how amazing it was that Harold took an arrow in the eye at the exact moment they did. Spoiler Alert: Harold dies at the end. (Disclaimer: that was more inappropriate condensation of real facts.)

All I had ever known about the Bayeaux Tapestry was that you can see Halley’s comet in it. (Disclaimer: I actually knew it was the story of William the Conqueror, but I just exhausted my vast storehouse of knowledge with that statement.)

But DI waxing eloquent about British history encouraged me to say, “So, you really know all this stuff and you love this stuff so you’re not being dragged to London against your will, are you?”

And that’s when he told me that he had been binge-watching British history on YouTube and Netflix so he could really enjoy the trip and help us both have a good time.

That’s love, folks. And it illustrates the best thing I suspect I’ll find on this trip: that if I get what I’ve always longed for (worldwide travel), I’m going to discover that I have always had what a lot of people spend their lives traveling far afield for: a partner like Dad, Interrupted.

So, here now: The Trip. I’m trying to blog as I go, so that army of folks at home can read along, and not have to listen to me go on about it when we return. This is key, as I’m reasonably sure that I’ve exhausted all my political and relationship capital with my friends and family as I’ve nattered on about it. If the anticipation of the event is the best part, rest assured that I have already gotten full value, no matter what happens.

Another Disclaimer: I’m pretty tired. I’m not sure my sentences are making sense. My knowledge of the Bayeux Tapestry and my political and relationship capital aren’t the only things that are exhausted here. I’ll do my best.

© E. Stocking Evans 2018