Tourists in Our Own Town

So we barely survived Thanksgiving and have the leftovers and blisters to prove it (if you're really interested you can pull up my Your Messages entry from that day, it's about third from the bottom).

The rest of the weekend has been a whirlwind of let's-entertain-Mom, and for all intents and purposes, has been lovely. We took the train out to Bath yesterday (where I read nary a sentence of Jane Austen), which is just the most charming of towns. I really must go there once when it's not freezing outside.

Today we walked and bussed around the north, real estate shopping in exploring the Hampsteads (West and plain) and enjoying a delicious (and speedily served) pub lunch at the Spaniards Inn, where I read neither Ode to a Nightingale nor The Pickwick Papers.

And tomorrow? Well, we ship the old lady out bid a fond adieu to darling Mommy Dearest, and enjoy a week or two without house guests.

Watch this space ... methinks big news is a comin'.