Home at last. It feels very odd. Leeds was hotter than SF on our return. The dog has acquired an entire new set of vocalisations in our absence and is keen to use them as much as possible. I’ve gone back to having no idea where anyone is any of the time.
I don’t know what we’ll make of this blog in years to come. I feel like Last Man Standing. Everyone claimed that had they had journals, they’d have written much more. We’ll never know. We had to have a vast catch-up session on one of the lengthy car journeys to capture the trivia: where we ate, what we saw, the funny bits. Now captured in electronic form of course, and set to accompany the photo book I plan to order in my dreams.
Personally, I suspect I will miss my sketch-book journal record. I can’t blog and photo and sketch and write. It doesn’t work like that.
And so back to work tomorrow. For real.
San Francisco a few feet higher than the hotel view
London
A Chevy for Six, Please 