A Guest Blog Entry by Meghan Krause:
I set out to visit England with no agenda, and little more than a ridiculous fake accent and a shoddy packing job that was the result of absolutely no sleep and an increasingly familiar lack of planning. Spontaneity has generally served me well in the past but, this time, my only saving grace with my ill-conceived attempt to pack the entirety of my closet is that I have fabulous hosts for nine whole days. (Mom -- travel partner extraordinaire -- and I traipsed around Ireland the week prior, which left me wanting to toss my suitcase into the Liffey. And, dammit, I should've done it -- the cost of shipping it over to England via Ryan Air made me dry-heave. What will Scotland bring?)
Six days into my stay with dear Kelly and Brian, I've come to realize I fancy the walkability of Oxford, the quaintness of the Cotswolds and the grandeur of Blenheim and Windsor. K&B had better watch out -- I just might extend my stay. The only thing remotely pushing me out the door is the mildly flavored (read: bland) English food. Ah well, no place is perfect. But Oxford just might be as close as any!
I've seen lots, done lots, walked lots and cursed the indecisive rain lots. Through it all, I've realized three fundamental truths:
1) No matter how much walking I do, the circumference of my thighs will not change.
2) A strawberry cider is the foremost English asset that Minneapolis lacks.
3) I would either be a millionaire or a pauper if I were a dentist in England (case in point: the wonderfully kind and conversant Melvin and Francine in Bourton-on-the-Water, whose...ahem..."teeth" belied their warm grins).
As my time in merry, ol' England comes to a close, I shall lament not running into Prince Charles (like I did 10 years ago!) but am crossing my fingers that I might still have a throw-down with Amy Winehouse for pure entertainment's sake.
