The stories of….

Inspiration comes in many ways .. as we parted Blockley this am, stopping for breakfast or last time at the Blockley Village cafe. I could not help eavesdropping on a young woman and her very spunky though much older friend. The elder woman  certainly exuded vigor and she made sure they spoke with the chef. She had many ideas how despite his talent and success, the marketing angle he had overlooked was the backstory … people are hungry for that. It was a joyous conversation between what may have been a grandmother and a grown young woman.  … ah the story .. we are wired for stories. The little town of Blockley is rife with them. In their open-hearted way, they became part of ours. 

Craig Stanley, chef extraordinaire ( the man knows well how to poach an egg). I hope the sharp current wisdom of this older woman guides you towards greater success.  We have greatly enjoyed the camaraderie and deliciousness of your fare … and it seems Blockley agrees! the town has so many sweet moments we will treasure. The dogs of Blockley are as endearing as their masters., saying farewell as we left.

We shall return.

Started this post as we arrived in London- next phase city life at the speed of sound, light and a double decker bus. Hop back into the car. Drive  the couple of hours back to the airport to drop the car.

The temperatures had soared to the mid nineties and the tube ride from the airport ( dropped the car there) was quite warm. We no sooner get up to our new accommodations when the rumble of thunder heralded a downpour.  

After finding our way to the Captain Bligh House we got tickets for tonight to the Old Vic. It is a great theatre, always high quality, the play is… A Monster Calls … and so

it begins.. art imitates life or in some cases gives us the venue to explore the realities of life that are too close for comfort.  The play was really fantastic in-it’s creativity. At the intermission, I was engaged thinking the creativity and performances were really good. As the second act unfolded .. I was peeled open. The story of a mother dying was told with such tender emotion that the audience and cast were in tears. For me, this raw subject close to home left me with cathartic sobbing. As we left the theater a kind young woman shared her pack of tissues with me. The thunderstorm which had come through as we left for the theatre (got to wear the waterproof gear after all) had broken the intense heat and humidity, the play had broken my heart, but the pulse of London was beating and we cannot wait to make more stories.