LETTING IT FLY? WHERE ARE THE WINGS

‘Letting it fly’ is another way of saying, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’

One of my goals in life is not backing down to fear.

Am I afraid of a famous tea room? Yes, but I let it fly.

How did I get over this unreasonable fear? I had help.

Getting help is a two-way street.

If you ask for help, then use the help you ask for.

Otherwise, why ask?

The long-married man asks for help from his long-married wife.

Wife: You need to calm down.

Me: No, you need to calm down.

Wife: We’ll go in for tea.

Me: It’s always more than just tea. We can get tea anywhere.

Wife: This is a special tea. This is where my parents met.

Me: Alright, I’ll go, but only if I can take a picture inside the Roman Bath Tea House in Bath, England.

Wife: Okay, but don’t put me in your blog. And it’s called the Pump Room.

Me: Deal.

 

A Beautiful Moment In Time

Family history has it that my wife’s Grandfather was in Dunkirk in 1940 and her Dad sailed with the Arctic convoys bringing supplies to Russia.

One was in the English Army, the other the Royal Navy.

Who knew?

What happened to Grandpa after Dunkirk? We know Dad found his true love in Bath, England and moved to America.

Like my Grandparents during WWII who met at a USO dance and married just before he shipped out for the duration, my wife’s folks met at a mixer after the war in the Pump Room.

We recreated the moment.

 

While I’m not a historical re-creator, or join groups that do, I’m a history fan.

I like the idea of someone working extra to get things right.

Historically speaking, if you don’t get things right the first time, keep working it out.

Too many history writers make it all about themselves.

Too many bloggers make it all about themselves.

One is unforgivable, the other is expected.

Historical research is supposed to lead to an agreed upon conclusion.

The smart guys read someone who gets it wrong and fix it.

 

Did I Just Win The Tour de France?

Maybe I won a race, maybe not.

The uniform is a dead giveaway: Pants tucked into sox? A bike with a kickstand? No winner’s jersey?

But I’m a winner for just being there with my wife after plowing through to competition, also known as fellow bike tour riders.

Me: Honey, can I use our Eiffel Tower picture . . .

Wife: Not in your blog.

Me: But you look so cute.

Wife: Nope.

Me: Aw, come on. You’re not letting it fly.

 

We started out the right way.

 

Governor Atiyeh Letting It Fly In PDX

Who doesn’t like goofing around with statues?

This is Oregon Governor Vic Atiyeh inside Portland International.

He looks ready for a trip.

I look like I just left the house. Why?

Because I just left the house.

I’d be a poor social media influencer since I didn’t change clothes three times for a fresh look between leaving the house and seeing Old Vic.

Even worse, I wore the same blue shirt for a week. Ooo, ick.

One day it’s a shirt, then a coat, then tied it around my waist for an international travel look, then draped over my shoulders like Mr. Continental.

Me: This is the most versatile shirt I’ve ever had.

Wife: I bought it for you, but you’ve never worn it.

Me: Look at me now, wearing it all the time.

Wife: You might want to mix up the fashion.

Me: I will when I spill something on it.

Wife: Like you did in the Pump Room

Me: At least that won’t happen again. No more tea rooms, right?

Wife:

 

Tea For Two X 2

On this, our last full day of cruising London from our matchbox room near Notting Hill Gate into Hyde Park, I’m taking a moment to reflect.

Earlier today my wife and I walked the dewy meadows of no mow May grass.

Me: I wouldn’t walk in there. Have you seen any dog crap bags? Me neither. Besides, you’re wearing open toe sandals and socks. That could get messy.

Her: We don’t have to walk on paved paths all the time.

Me: This is a good time. How’s it going so far.

Her: My socks are wet.

Me: (Not saying I told you so.)

 

After things dried out we found our way to Kensington Palace. It was near the Round Pond.

Like a couple of rookie Yank tourists, we walked up and asked the butler where to get a cup of coffee.

He pointed to his left up a sloping hill with a switch-back trail leading to a sunken garden surrounded by a tree-tunnel.

It was beautiful by anyone’s standards, made more so with a statue of Princess Diana with three kids.

Soon after that moment of nostalgia and tragic family history we found ourselves in the Orangery looking for that cup of coffee to walk around with.

 

The Royal Afternoon Tea is a truly regal indulgence, with a selection of delightful treats including Castle Farm lavender éclair; traditional scones served with Cornish clotted cream and blackcurrant preserve and pea, broad bean and tarragon quiche, to be enjoyed alongside Pimm’s or English sparkling wine. 

 

If leaving London on a high note is a goal, High Tea in the Orangery at Kensington Palace works.

It sounds like a bucket list box to check for anyone.

But there’s more.

On the walk out of Hyde Park we passed a coffee cart.

Me: What’s a cup of coffee cost? Less than high tea?

Wife: No.

Me: That’s what I thought.

Do married people agree to letting it fly with each other?

If not, then there’s that under-current of criticism that sours everything they do.

So don’t be a sour puss.

Wife: Can’t smile anymore?

Me: Sure. See?

Wife: That’s better. Hold it and I’ll take a picture.

Me: Okay. Ready.

Wife: That’s not a smile.

Me: You want me to take your smiley face instead?

Wife: No.

Camera: Click.