"leavin' on a jet plane
Totally know when we'll be back again
Oh babe, I love to go"

Our first day in England was eerily perfect. We managed to sleep on the plane so we arrived sans jet lag. A quick train trip into Paddington Station and then we were on our way to Windsor. Big, freaking castle - still very medieval in parts with French baroque taking over in others.

A nice guard told us where we could check our bags so we thoroughly enjoyed our tour.


In 1993, December 31st, I got on a jet plane. Went to live in England. A time when I owned nothing but books and clothes. No car, no job, just a degree and certain lack of clue as to what to do with my shiny new future.

Ten years have slipped spooling past. More than any reunion, this trip is a passing of a marker.

I have a car (paid for), a house (manifestly not ), a career, friends, lines, ties. My wings are no longer wet. I am well into mid-flight. Time to return in circles gyre. Spin wide and wheel away to areas I've never been.

So, 2004, after months of preparative hiking and walking, a jet plane to that green and pleasant land, that Britannic island in that Atlantic sea.