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All Things Must Pass
I’m profoundly glad that I wasn’t home alone when it happened. Most likely the sad event occurred when we were away for three months. No-one was present. Perhaps when our friend Nora came by to water our begonia named Rosie…perhaps it happened then. I hope so. It is not a nice thought that something so…
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The Statue
This post is not about anything that happened on our most recent trip. This goes back to a time, over a year ago when we were having dinner at an outdoor restaurant In Brussels. At the end of the final course, I excused myself to go to the loo. On the way to the back…
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Journey’s End
Pick a window…any window. There’s nothing to see, only white. We entered a fog bank. Fog as thick as whole milk. We’re sailing due west, nearing Long Island. Visibility from our deck window is about ten feet. The end of our three-month journey is about to end. Nothing left, except to get through customs and…
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In The Land of Pooh, The Badger, King Arthur and Beyond: The Excursionist XIII Finale
magic (n) A mysterious quality of enchantment. England is a land of mystery, magic and myth. It is a land of legends of kings and villains of all sorts. Consider this quote: As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can recapture nothing but a dim sense of…
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The Glastonbury Tor Blog: The Excursionist XII
[The Tor at the start of our climb. St. Michael’s Tower crowns the hill] Glastonbury is an ancient town nestled on a broad plain near the Mendip Hills in the county of Somerset. It comes with a reputation, like that guy that sat in the last seat of your school bus. You can shop for…
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The Circus: The Excursionist XI
Really great adventures always start with a sign taped to a window of a shop or to a wooden pole along the curb. At least that’s how I found out about the circus. We’re not talking about Barnum & Bailey here or even the Big Apple Circus that visits Lincoln Center every winter. No, this…
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Words From A Footpath: The Excursionist X
[Older footpath signs] It must be my age. It could be my imagination. It certainly is something I don’t fully understand. But, the truth is I think that the English Public Footpaths sometimes call my name. There is a legend among the Northwest Indigenous People that when you hear an owl call your name…you will…
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Barcelona To Bristol: The Excursionist IX
[On the approach to Bristol Airport] The rain wasn’t falling anywhere near us on the morning we boarded the EasyJet plane in Barcelona. I was stuck with a window seat (ok, I had a chance to move to the aisle but I chose to have a view). We soared out over the Mediterranean before making…
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The Enigma of Knowlton Church: The Excursionist VII
[Knowlton Church…front facade] In the middle of Cranborne Chase, a hilly and breezy open region in north Dorset, is the shell of a Norman church. Nothing special really. These churches are found in many villages and hamlets of Dorset. What is unusual is that it is built-in the middle of a Neolithic ritual henge (a…
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patrickjegan 