Crikey, I’m in my second home.

As mentioned earlier, I had the good fortune to be upgraded to business class. Not all the way to first class. But that’s to be expected. I might be taking baby steps with British Air but I am tracking giant steps with British hiking. And God forbid a Scot reads I referred to Gael as part of the UK.

Accommodations were frankly a bit tight, but still welcome.


My flight from Chicago to Heathrow left at 8:30PM and arrived at 10:30AM (watched The Deadpool, what better way to see a movie you kinda wanted to watch but didn’t want to pay for than on an airplane!). 

Having flown priority, I was allowed in the priority customs line at Heathrow. Unfortunately there were many of us priority passengers and it took forever. The unwashed, in their line, were fileling through while we stood trying to look elite. What is the point of being priority if everyone is priority? And since we are talking about it, is there anything better than first class? Purple class?

Finally through, it was the fast train to Paddington, and the faster train to Swindon, where my dear old friends Nick and Belinda Boyd picked me up to stay at their estate in Longcot, for a few nights. And as Nick likes to constantly tell me, bits of his fence are older than my country. 

After a brief respite we went to dinner with Belinda’s cousin and husband, visiting from D.C., and old family friend, Richard and Belinda’s father, Lord Raglan, Geoffrey Somerset, 6th Baron of Monmouthshire.


That’s Geoffrey up front (or as I like to call him, bullet head) with Nick across from me and Belinda (pronounced Belinder for some strange British reason in front of me). 

The best thing about dinner with a Lord is they have to pay for it. Again, a strange British rule. Or maybe just his extreme kindness.

Tomorrow, I plan to do a 15 mile on the Ridgeway Trail. A trail that is definitely older then Amercia. Or for that matter, Europe.

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