(This the eleventh in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) London is my favorite city in the whole world but I ached on the way to the train station.  I had loved not feeling (completely) like a tourist.  Wendy, Sue and I had gotten on well together and I felt a lot  Read the Rest…

(This the tenth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) The day after my birthday, Sue and Wendy had appointments in Wells but I opted to stay home.  I was intent on finding a footpath, if I was lucky, to Street.  Or barring that, just a footpath to walk.  They are everywhere  Read the Rest…

(This is 9th in a series that begin with A Night in Steerage.) After my experience in Wells, I wasn’t eager to try new bus adventures.  I wanted to go to Nether Stowey to see the Coleridge Cottage.  Sue looked into it for me and said that the bus would only get me to within  Read the Rest…

(This is 8th in a series that begin with A Night in Steerage.) On my way to the Old Pier to catch the bus to Wells I chatted with a man who ascertained for what felt like the hundredth time which side of the street I wanted.  It’s funny: there aren’t that many buses in  Read the Rest…

(This is 7th in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage) Burnham-on-Sea is a small resort town on Bridgewater Bay, which is itself a dip in the Bristol Channel.  I was here in 2009 when Mervyn was alive and Pam was herself.  I stayed with them in their semi-detached house on Love Lane.   Read the Rest…

(The is the sixth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) First of all, Beaulieu is pronounced “Bew-ly.”  Again I had been saying it as though I was in French class.  Sue said “Bew-ly” from the start. “How did you know that?” I asked. “That’s just the way we’d say it.” “You  Read the Rest…

(This is the fifth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) Saturday, June 11 arrived.  This was the day I had planned my entire trip around.  The day of the St Leonard’s Church village fete.  We’ve all seen fetes on PBS mini-series: the big hats, the tea tent, local musicians, crying children,  Read the Rest…

(This is the fourth in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) One of the features of the day I spent in Bristol was that I didn’t have to know anything.  I didn’t have to look at timetables or figure out where stops and stations were.  I didn’t even have to know what  Read the Rest…

(This is the third in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) Glastonbury is a mere 3 ½ miles from Butleigh but it takes two buses to get there. The main road is too dangerous to walk and even if one were to brave it, it would be unpleasant what with cars whizzing  Read the Rest…

(This is the second in a series that begins with A Night in Steerage.) Butleigh is a small village in Somerset, a county west of London, north of Cornwall.  In previous trips to England I have spent most of my time in Cornwall because that is where I, in a sense, came from.  My great  Read the Rest…