“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.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
In the caves of Merlin
Issued with portable lamps, we followed our guide into the labyrinth of Chislehurst Caves, in a nondescript suburb of London on the south side of the Thames. We were the only visitors in the party, and that added to the spookiness and excitement of the occasion. Some people, explained our guide, believed the chalk caves were haunted and the voices of children had been heard laughing and crying. Others swore they had seen a hunchbacked old crone. Roman soldiers had been sighted and a lady in a long blue gown had been seen floating from the center of a haunted pool. In some respects, the ordinariness of the vicinity beyond the caves enhanced the mysteries we could imagine within.
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.