Some Pond

We're here. We spent last night in cramped airplane seats, trying to rest our heads on tiny pillows, flying east, racing toward the sunrise to meet it halfway. Ireland slid underneath us in the darknesss, too far away to see. We met the sunlight and London at the same time, both partially hidden in fog.

This afternoon my sister and I discovered the small neighborhood bakery, where we ordered Cornish pasty and tea and the lady behind the counter called us 'my love.' (The Scottish stewardess last night kept calling me 'darling,' rolling her R's.) Tonight, dinner with our kind hosts, a Christian couple who'd never met us but agreed to have us for the night. Spaghetti in a charmingly cluttered dining room, a few roses still blooming in the garden outside. Then after-dinner chat in front of the tiny fireplace in their yellow-curtained sitting room.

And we did pack the apple pie after all. Just two slices in tupperware. But it made a good breakfast at 6:30 a.m., which was really 1:30 a.m... You have to convince yourself that it's morning somehow. Apple pie and tea are a pretty good way to do it.