“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, September 20, 2011
Day of service, East End style
Until the middle of the twentieth century many East Enders, and those who lived south of the river, in the poorer boroughs of London, went hop-picking every year. It was quite an industry and a practical way to earn a few pennies, enjoy a family vacation, albeit a working one, and breathe clean country air. Of course, the descendants of those hop pickers are now barreling down the motorway in their land cruisers, roaring past those old hop fields and disused kilns without a second glance, as they head to the Channel Tunnel and the promise of warmer, richer pickings on the other side.
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.