We are off then on the motorway (Blvd. Perpherique) in the direction of A13 to Rouen, past our old hotel at Les Mureaux. We stop for a late lunch on the road (2 p.m.), then visit a crowded Giverny.
The
house and gardens are a splash of colors.
It is all very lovely but very crowded.
We leave at 4:40 for Calais, barely making the ferry: we arrive at 9:15
for the 9:30 sailing. On board, we dine
in the front of the ship and watch the sun set over England, orange on the seas
and in the sky. The sea is even calmer
than the way over, flat with barely discernable swells, but we cannot see Dover
in the dusk. We have a typical (blah!)
English dinner, but most of the passengers are more interested in what's on the
television: the Danes beat Germany for the European soccer championship. I buy my case of lager. I would have preferred Stella, but only
P&O must have it and I settle on Fosters.
We breeze through passport control and customs. Too late I remember that I do not have my UK
visa paper work, but this time we're nothing special, it's just a tourist
stamp.
Gas
up at 10 or so in Dover. We're home at
midnight.
1. Write to explain what my generation is
about. What's it like, why do they do
that, crazy. (Ian McEwan's ex-roommate,
LRB last issue.)
2. G. Bush is a conciliator. If there is a revolution, you have to take
sides and fight to win, not conciliate.
(N. Gingrich in Herald Tribune today.)
3. Beauty confuses common
sense/intellect. (P.D. James, Unsuitable
Job.)
Later. Caught up today on paper work and mail today
and napped. Cathy and I had dinner with
David and Lucy J. in Whittleford, Tickell Arms.
Lovely old place. The colors of
the rooms, bright enamels, were reminiscent of Giverny, though different colors. Nice glass room and lovely old garden and
pond.
Sunday
28 June. Clear and warm. Last 9:15 first communion mass.
10:52
p.m. Sitting outside on the front porch
on another long evening, waiting until it's absolutely dark. Still not quite. TV show over at 10, all the lights are out,
sort of eerie feeling with the twilight at 10 p.m. I fixed myself a scotch and sat on the steps.
For
a moment it was still, almost as if time stopped; quiet, then a breeze picked
up and its movement of leaves in distinct, different motions brought time into
being again. I thought in the quiet
moments how I have always liked "far away": distant, empty spaces across the ocean,
endless vistas in the desert.
Tonight
it is cool again after a warm, sunny day; a repeat of yesterday's weather. In the late evening it cools off considerably,
the way a day should!
I
told Cathy going back doesn't frighten me, it's as far away as England was last
year.
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