Brighton

We left plenty of time for traffic jams on the infamous M40 and M25 from Oxford to Gatwick on our last day in England. But we made good time, and rather than settle in for some rest at a hotel, we hopped on to M23 and headed another 45 km down the road to Brighton - just because we spotted it on the highway signage. We walked around a bit and went down to the famous "pebble" beach - which was windy and cold and looked quite inhospitable and almost in every way was not a beach.

We went to a wine bar to watch the England - Tunisia game. The kids noticed a public bus stop on the street and it was on its way to Hangleton. This caused much excitement. If you are a Potter fan, Little Hangleton holds a prominent spot in the story.

After dinner we drove back to Gatwick and went to sleep at the airport Sofitel hotel with airplanes soundlessly taking off and landing behind heavily insulated windows all night (I got my own room while the other three crammed into the other room because no one wanted to hear me snore :-). Next morning, we ate breakfast at the hotel bistro downstairs. Being a Sofitel, the hostess greeted us with a jovial "bonjour" in a eastern European accent. What will happen to all these European oddities after Brexit. Which jerked me back to reality - we hadn't looked at the news while on the road.

And that made we wish we could keep on traveling for another three years - or seven - depending on whether the American public continue to ignore their sense and their morals. However, if they chose to ignore only one, we'll be okay.

Oxford

We stopped in Oxford for lunch and a quick look around. A lot of students were dressed in white shirts, black suits, and sported a carnation. Something was going on.

You don't get to see much if you walk off the streets because most of the colleges have a the quad type architecture with a secure entrance. Tourists were grouped around the entrances gawking at the quads, especially the famous Christ Church College quad where Harry Potter learned to fly his first broom!

Walking by a fountain pen store, I saw an ad for the Parker '51 on the window - " the world's most wanted pen". A lot of memories came rushing back from when I was Vivian's age. My dad and mom had matching pairs, in burgundy and blue, from their time as students in London. Each set contained  a fountain pen with a 14 carat nib, and a ball point, both with rolled gold caps and the telltale Parker arrow pocket clip, in their leather cases with satin insides. But my dad's fountain pen almost always was in his shirt pocket. The pen and his Rolex were the last things he picked up from the dresser in the morning and he carried them through the day. My mother was less picky and often wrote with any old ball point. Just as my dad's penmanship was perfect, my mother's was unreadable. She joked that at medical school they taught you how to make your handwriting unreadable. My own Pelikan was one of my prized possessions when I started writing with a pen. So, we walked in to the store.

The lady behind the counter knew a thing or two about fountain pens and selling, and showed the kids how to hold the pens and had them try out medium and fine points and eventually we walked out with a Lamy pen for each. Great pens they can use till college, she said. The next day were were back in Austin and Evan wrote his first note with his new fountain pen. Grandpa and grandma would be pretty tickled.

We stopped at a used book store to browse and half an hour later we staggered out under the weight of several books. Feeling secure that we had enough reading material for the airplane ride back, we headed off towards Gatwick airport.

Leaving the Cotswolds

Breakfast at Huffkins in Stowe-on-the-Wold, a quick walk around the church, and the off to Oxford. We will be back for a multi-day walk through this beautiful part of the world at some time.

Sudeley Castle

Evan read one of the guide books laying on the kitchen table and said he wanted to go see Sudeley Castle. That was the first time any of us had heard of the place. The next day we ended up spending most of the day wandering the beautifully manicured grounds and learning about the history of this place. And watching a really hokey jousting tournament.

Vivian and Evan played hide and go seek like they were at the grandma's house. They seemed only slightly disturbed by the fact that so many people associated with the castle had ended up being beheaded. The castle was first built in the 10th century, and took it's modern form in the fifteenth century during the reign of King Henry VIII, whose last wife, Catherine Parr lived and died at Sudeley. Then during the English Civil War, Sudeley was used as a headquarters by the royalists, and when they lost, Cromwell had the castle "slighted". When the royalists returned to power, they in turn had Cromwell's corpse dug up from Westminster Abbey and the skeleton beheaded and hung from chains. Sweet revenge.

The broken remains of the slighted castle stayed unoccupied till 1837 when a rich glove maker bought it and started the process of rebuilding it under the guidance of Sir Gilbert Scott. Catherine Parr's coffin was found in a grave and when the chapel next to the castle was rebuilt, she was buried there.

Later that night, over a bottle of wine from the local Tesco, I wondered. A peek into the lives of the royals is always a bit shocking, even when I have heard the stories before. Tradition must carry a huge inertia that is impossible to stop. Why else would a somewhat modern and otherwise egalitarian country like Great Britain continue to adore its monarchy?