Bath

Renting our townhouse in Bath may be the smartest thing I have ever done. Ever. We are so happy to be in a flat where we can unpack for two weeks and use our kitchen to cook our own meals and bbq in our garden. The Coordinatrix and I are staying in the bedroom off the master bedroom, which is tiny but cute—vaulted ceiling and rounded doorways. I’m sleeping on the trundle bed, and the whole situation is very elementary school slumber party. And there are books in the house. Our living room has a bookcase full of books that I mostly don't want to read, but still . . . Books.

Yesterday we went to church and met lots of locals. One man came up to us and said, Hello, girlies. What’s your pleasure? And then we all stared at him because we had no idea what he was talking about or if this was a standard UK greeting. We never did manage to make the conversation normal. A woman with three children drove us home after our meetings and her little children were darling. The 9-year-old boy sounded like a tiny MP every time he spoke. Love the British accents.