Alas, as I’ve said to many of you in response to your generous comments on previous posts, I’ve been the worst possible blogger/writer/storyteller this past week. My goal—our goal, actually, because The One wants to try his hand at writing—was to keep you in the loop literally each day. We wanted to regale you in the evening with tales—comic as well as tragic—from our day spent tromping through London. And, more importantly, we wanted to fold your copious ideas and suggestions into our travels and posts. (By the way, thanks for the restaurant reccos and the directives to visit St. John’s and have tea at Fortnum & Mason. And Kate Jackson, I will forever be your love slave for recommending Dinner by Heston Blumenthal.)
But we failed you. The city and its offerings got the better of us. Damn you, London (shakes fist at ye heavens)! We’re now somewhere off the coast of France headed for Vigo, San Sebastian, and Bilbao, Spain; Porto, Portugal; and, finally, Bordeaux and Mont St. Michel, France, after setting sail on the Constellation, the flagship of Celebrity Cruises. (Wait. Does one “set sail” on a cruise ship?) We’re on a wine immersion voyage—not a booze cruise, mind you. This is too classy, too civilized for that—although The One didn’t hesitate to buy the five-bottle wine package despite the fact that we were already booked for four wine-and-food-pairing dinners. So our “we-interrupt-this-vacation-for-this-urgent-message-from-David-and-The One” posts from our London bureau will have to come in fits and starts as we wedge them in between our other assuredly late posts about the rest of our trip.
Bottom line: We beg your eternal lenience. In the meantime, enjoy this (rather shaky) picture I took from our veranda as we entered the English Channel at 8:00 p.m. last night. Think of it as the first of many postcards from our ledge, er, edge.