After three curiously unsatisfying days in London, we head for Iceland tomorrow, starting the long trek homewards.
Mostly I am feeling thwarted.
I just erased a bunch of whining.
The Globe theater smells wonderful, of fresh oak and rushes. The Golden Hinde, a replica of Drake's round the world in the 1600's ship, also smells wonderful, of tar and marlin and the memories of sea voyages.
It is odd what I will remember from this trip.