I had a lovely time being together with some of my Alexander Technique friends in Bournemouthe, England. I had a 30 min walk (google said 20 min, but I’m slower than that right now) to get to the host’s house for our gathering. I was pleased that I was able to do such a long walk all at once. Carl and I had covered much ground too, but usually in shorter stints. I also find it easier to walk when I’m with someone else, so doing 30 minutes on my own felt like an achievement. I was also proud of myself on the day I figured out how to take a bus for part of that distance. My friends also gave me rides sometimes. We went to the beach twice and that was also a good amount of walking. Unfortunately, I had packed for Wales with jeans and a wool sweater. I hadn’t really planned for the sunny and windless 75 of southern England, so I only had one t-shirt! Overall it was rejuvenating to be with my AT group. It had been nearly three years since we last saw each other and it filled my heart to be with these dear people again. We hope to reunite in the future, although Amy is convinced that once a year is too often for me to go away.
On my last afternoon in Bournemouth after my AT gathering was done, went off to do one touristy thing. I went to find the grave of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, author of Frankenstein. I made it to the correct church and graveyard but then realized I had no idea how to find the actual grave. Many seemed to have special signs for tourists to read. I was worried hers might be in the church itself and that was due to close in twenty minutes. I stood in the graveyard a few feet away from one of the graves that had a marker, searching online to see if I could find guidance. Nothing. I gave up and walked a few feet up the hill to look at the grave I was closest to. Yup. It was hers!
When I wrote last week that was prior to Carl’s Heathrow airport experience. Luckily he got there with plenty of time, but… just as he was close to the front of the line to check his bag, the baggage system for terminal 5 shut down. Then the baggage check-in system for all of Heathrow went down. He waited and waited and waited. Eventually he was told to just leave his tagged bag in a large pile. Since so many people were waiting to deal with their bags, it meant that the security line was relatively short. Still, Carl ended up running to make it to his flight on time. And to get from security to the gates is a long way involving escalators, long distances to walk or run, elevators, trams, and more long distances to traverse. He just made it.
By the time I was flying home on Wednesday, Carl’s suitcase had still not arrived in Pittsburgh. I got to Heathrow 4 hours early, but that was actually too early to check my suitcase, so I decided to see if I could track down Carl’s suitcase. That situation felt ridiculous. There is just a set of seats by a sign that says “luggage inquiries” and if you are lucky someone will pick up when you call via the courtesy phone. Or if you are extra lucky someone will come around and take notes on a clipboard before they disappear through a door that regular people are not permitted past. When you look through the doorway you can’t see anyone at a desk or anyone who seems related to baggage inquiries. I did talk to the clipboard person, waited for half an hour, and then gave up because at that point I could check my bag and I didn’t want to mess up my timing. It was relatively easy to check my bag but then the security line was the longest I have ever experienced in my life. I think it took me 90 minutes to get through, and that was with the help of being sent up to the front when I was 3/4 of the way through. I was worried about missing my flight but I couldn’t run because my hip isn’t ready for that yet and in many areas everyone else was also going where I was going so there was no way to easily get through the crowd. I made it to my gate when I was sure they would be done boarding and about to close the flight. Instead it turned out that boarding hadn’t even started. Eventually I got a text from British Air telling me the flight was delayed. That was never put on the big boards or announced. So I got some food and settled in with my book. At one point a group of high school students near me started singing “Miss Mary Mack.” They didn’t get far before realizing they didn’t know the words. I chimed in and brought the song all the way home to the end. The kids were thrilled. All of my mothering years of singing songs paid off.
The original plan was that Carl and the girls would meet me at the airport, but once my flight was delayed we knew that didn’t make sense. Evidently there were big feelings at home about this change. And then the power went out. Carl said that actually helped the moment because it changed the focus. I landed at 10:30pm, made further inquiries about Carl’s suitcase, was told it had arrived in Pittsburgh the day before and would be delivered to our house. Great! Except that if it arrived July 12 then why has it still not made it to our house? Carl and Sarah even went to the airport yesterday, but since there wasn’t a British Air flight arriving that day then there was no one to open the office where the suitcase might be.
I’m so glad to have gone on my trip and it’s also so nice to be back home. On Thursday, Sarah and Amy and I went out to lunch and to do some errands. We explored a used clothing store we had never been to before. Sarah found a shirt with dinosaurs in a jungle, and Amy found some very Amy-ish items as well. On Friday they had their last day of Camp Anna, which concluded with a performance of their beatnik poems while wearing sunglasses and homemade berets, a performance of cheers and gymnastics, and a short Harry Potter skit that involved making a feather fly.
Lots of love to you all. May you all have your luggage!
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