“Half memoir, half travel, A Yank Back to England...is an absolutely wonderful book, not only about going home again but also about love and family and tradition and the passage of the years.” —Michael Dirda, Pulitzer Prize-winning literary critic (Washington Post) To see the entire quote, click here.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A riverside discovery, part 1
We saw, by luck, a tiny bracken-covered sign leading to the tiny, riverside hamlet of Moulseford. The road seemed narrow, with tall grasses brushing the side windows as we turned. Then the road became narrower still, shrinking to the size of a bike path. This teeny roadway was thoughtfully dotted with tarmac flanges placed, presumably, to minimize head-on collisions and murder-suicides. In such a tight spot we finally ‘killed our speed,’ but no one else did. A stout man in a Jag, the actor who played Inspector Strange on Morse, one of my favorite shows, mimed swear words at us as we dithered onto a nearby flange to let him pass. I had no idea who had the right-of-way, but I had a young family and a desire to live.
Standing, from L to R: Lew (Dad), Frances (Prodigal Wife), Denis (The Prodigal Tourist), and Jessie (Mum). Floating: Kate (Prodigal Daughter).
About this blog
You are reading random vignettes, deleted scenes, and other extras from and about my book, A Yank Back to England: The Prodigal Tourist Returns. Enjoy, let me know what you think, ask questions, and thanks for your support! Cheers, The Prodigal Tourist
Years ago I shed my Cockney accent and left London's blighted East End for America. Since then, I’ve only returned to see my increasingly cantankerous parents and assorted relatives. Until my American wife comes along. She wants to tour, see the sights. No thank you. It’s not for me. But she insists, and I become a reluctant tourist in my former homeland.