And then there were three....

Shelley's dog,Callie, made a real impression on both of us--- an adorable, smart dog. It got us talking about the void in our life… So, while we were in Tampa at Lazy Days, I started to look at available breeders in the Tampa/Inverness area. One of them sounded intriguing—they had Yorkies and Yorkie/Maltese mixes on their web site. It looked like a family run operation—not open on Sunday, “a day of worship”. So, we agreed that we’d go check out their operation. We also agreed that we wouldn’t walk away with a dog this time—just check out the breeder and decide later…..yea, right.. We drove to the sticks – outside Dade City to a ranch style house in the middle of nowhere. We walked into the living room to see 4 Yorkie puppies waiting for us. Within minutes, we were surrounded with wiggling puppies. One of them was absolutely adorable –little Dina. But, we still wanted to see the mixed breeds that she had. So, in came 2 York-tese’s and a Maltese. I said, “No white dogs”…but this shrewd breeder must have known that this particular Maltese was a ringer for us. The York-tese’s went off to play with the other puppies—and the little Maltese, named Angel, came right to us. She was a charmer! While the other dogs raced and played, she stayed to play with us. Within a few hours, we were writing a check –only $1200 --$400 a pound—and walking out with our new puppy. She was a perfect traveler—slept in my arms the entire drive back to Tampa. Since we were not exactly prepared for a puppy – our first stop was Petsmart. With crate, leash, food and toys, we headed off to introduce “Chloe” to her new home. (“Chloe” was named after John’s g-g-g-g grandmother, Daniel Spencer Sr’s wife, Chloe Wilson Spencer).

Our first few weeks were quite a transition—after being footloose and fancy free for over 2 years, we were suddenly “with dog”. Feeling like new parents with no idea of how to deal with this tiny creature, we fumbled for awhile…trying to figure out how much to feed her, how often, when to take her out, how to get her house-broken…. There were a lot of sleep-interrupted nights. Thank god we were in Florida, so the 10:00-12:00-2:00-4:00 stops outside weren’t too awful. There were many days that we looked at each other, saying “What have we done?”.

We left Tampa and took our first road trip to Rock Crusher. We would be settling in for 4 months – well, for about 2 weeks in one spot—then, we had to do an Ocala run to get our jacks fixed – then back to our 4 month spot. Chloe immediately began to charm the entire park. Within days, she had made friends with everyone. We had our first Thanksgiving, our first Christmas and two birthdays. She would alternate between being absolutely wonderful and adorable –and being an absolute “Mal-terrorist”. December was time for puppy shots, first grooming. Our lives were completely turned up-side-down!

(Had a great b-day for Mom—with live Maine lobsters flown in!)

Time to head South

Time to head south—the weather was getting just toooo chilly. We opted not to take the coastal route. That stop gave us the “opportunity” to re-visit Hazelton and get a final look at the Turner gravestones. Not wanting to cook, we stopped at “Speck’s Tavern”, a local spot claiming home-cooked food. We parked our little Jetta next to a few large trucks that looked like they’d just come out of the woods loaded with dead animals. We walked in to a very dark, almost empty bar. A few patrons were sitting in front of those little card gaming machines – drinking beer with cigarettes dangling from their mouths. The bartender got us our beers and we took a better look around. The woman next to us, drinking something that looked like straight whiskey with a beer chaser, was talking to anyone who would listen. Her story of multiple marriages and hard luck life kept us entertained. In between, we took a look at the wall covered with 9/11 commentary—lots of “kill the muslims” and military slogans. We drank our beer and opted to make the best of leftovers in our own refrigerator.

Our mountain route south took us through Ashville, NC. After all of the endorsements of this funky, arts-fartsy town (Everyone has said, “You two would just LOVE it!”), we had high expectations. We took the trolley tour of the town—a two hour drive through no-where! The first hour was spent driving through their “Historic District” – which looked like a middle class 1930’s neighborhood. Then, it was off to see the big “downtown”….. a few blocks, a few restaurants and some boutique shops. What a yawn!

So, rather than spend any more time in the Carolina mountains (evenings were very chilly!), we made our way to Atlanta. We hit the infamous Atlanta traffic on the far side of I-285 and had the joy of driving through Atlanta with their less than friendly drivers. No one seemed particularly happy to see our 70 feet driving down their roads. We got to the Cummins dealership, just south of the airport, checked in and settled in for the evening.

The next day, we were hoping to get our jacks fixed (they were sporting a slow leak), but by day’s end, it was obvious that we wouldn’t be able to get the part for at least a week. So, we decided to spend the weekend and head out on Sunday. On Saturday, John dropped me off at the airport Marta station and I took the train up to Dunwoody. Shell met me at the station- how great to see her again! We did a few hours of shopping – it was like old times! Then, we picked up some pulled pork and sides for dinner, stopped to say hi to Elaine and met the boys for dinner at Shell and Frankie’s. It had been so long since I’d seen the house, it was like a whole new place. And, the dogs….the only dog I knew anymore was Chrissie! We finally met Callie and Hooch. Great dinner, lots of wine –it was a great evening.

"Fuhgedaboutit" - Cajuns take on NYC

On Sunday, we all left for NYC. While the RV Park here is nothing like Salem (it truly is a parking lot--although you can catch a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. No matter- the Cajuns pulled the picnic tables together, pulled out the grills and it was a party in the parking lot.

Our first day was a major hit-- I found a tour of Brooklyn, called "A Slice of Brooklyn", run by a guy named "Tony". Imagine all of your stereotypes about NY/Brooklyn guys- and he was it! By the end of the day, everyone was saying, "fuhgedaboutit"...and "howyadoin". After a visit to the Brooklyn Bridge, we stopped for a slice of thin-crust Neapolitan pizza...then on to Coney Island - and a stop at another famous pizzeria -with Sicilian (Parmesan-over sauce-over mozzarella slices) and spumoni. While driving through the Brooklyn neighborhoods, Tony would cue his DVD player to show clips from films shot in Brooklyn. So, as you drive under the D line in Bensonhurst, you're watching "The French Connection" chase scene. On 86th Street in Bay Ridge, he shows John Travolta strutting his stuff in the opening scene of "Saturday Night Fever". (Wouldn't you know, the next day, this tour was being highlighted on The Today Show- this guy is gonna be swamped...)

Check out his web site, Slice of Brooklyn Pizza: http://www.asliceofbrooklyn.com/

Brenda, Carolyn and I did a "Shopping Tour"---4 1/2 hours in the Garment District - going into the backroom showrooms where the store buyers go to buy their clothes, accessories, etc. They're not open to the public- but with this tour you get in and can shop the samples. Brenda got a $450 coat for $65!. (Now, only Brenda would bargain in the showrooms- she got them down from $75 to $65..."Why pay wholesale?!"). We walked out feet off- that day and every other day.

John and I played tour guides at the Chelsea Market. This old factory (built in 1898) was owned by Nabisco and was the place where the Oreo cookie was invented. When Nabisco moved out, it was bought by a visionary who saw it as a place for both retail and wholesale operation. He brought in breadmakers, meat packers, produce vendors, flower vendors – offering them the ability to operate their wholesale operations on the exterior of the building- pulling their trucks in for shipments, and operating a retail operation on the inside. He kept the interior intact – so it has the feeling of an old factory. He encouraged the shops to have glassed in frontage to allow the shoppers to see their operations – baking bread, cutting meat… He had his son-in-law, an artist, create comfortable places for people to sit –resulting in huge Fred Flintstone like benches – that are now filled with people eating and drinking. On the upper floors are the TV studios for NY’s local channel, The Food Network and The Oxygen Network. (Web site for Chelsea Market: http://www.chelseamarket.com/pages/history.html)

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Then we took them on our own version of a Greenwich Village/SOHO walking/eating tour. Since the Cajuns have shared their tremendous cuisine (NOTHING like eating in the home of a great Cajun cook - and Sharon and Brenda are two of the absolute best!), we love introducing the Cajuns to strange ethnic eateries. We dragged them to tiny storefront restaurants/eateries and ordered tastings of Indian aloo kathi rolls, Israeli pressed sandwiches, Jamaican beef patties, fresh mozzarella and Italian sausage, Greek yogurt, and homemade Halva with pistachios.

Now, after all that, they did drag us to Little Italy for dinner. It's funny, "Brenda's New York" is so different from ours. She's the Times Square, Rockefeller Center, Broadway NYC girl. We're all Greenwich Village/SOHO/Lower East Side/Chelsea and tiny dives and ethnic foods. Although, I think Brenda's John was appreciating our cuisine a bit more after our Little Italy experience. After ordering a bottle of Chianti for $38, we ordered our $25+ dollar entrees...with everything ala carte. Our $100 per couple dinner great fun, but we'll still take our street food and ethnic dumps. We did see Gene Simmons (from Kiss) wandering the streets of Little Italy (although, no one in our group had a clue who he was..)

We had to introduce Stephanie to the Cajuns. She found a few treasures for us....she met us one night at a bar called the "Ear".....one of the oldest bars in NYC (the original sign was "Bar" but part of the "B" lighting was out--hence, the "E-ar" name). And- a Chinatown treasure- with soup dumplings and real feel of China....

The Cajuns left Sunday morning....and it still feels like they just left yesterday. We did absolutely nothing all day Sunday after their departure (we had a little bloody mary/mimosa brunch before they left). I spent the day reading my New York Times.

On Monday, we headed to Brooklyn on our continuing genealogical research project. We went on a field trip to Brooklyn to find the grave of John' great-great grandmother's brother (he died returning home from England where he was on a Mormon mission. He made it back to NYC and died of TB- so his brother planted him in a cemetery in Brooklyn (" 5 1/2 feet in the ground, in good clean soil"). (By the way, this was in about 1858...) Well, we headed out by subway/train to almost the end of the line in Brooklyn. As we passed each of the stops, the neighborhoods seemed to be getting a bit tougher....and we started to notice police officers walking through the stations. I asked John if he had done any checking on the neighborhood that this cemetery was located in. Well, we got off the train (with one officer on the platform and another at the ticket booth). Fortunately, the cemetery was about a block down from the station. We found the office and found a nice man who offered to take us to the general location of the grave (the oldest section of the cemetery). Lucky for us- since the cemetery covers 200 acres of land. We found the general area, but the stones were almost all gone. Our driver was an ex-cop and when we asked about any ethnic restaurants in the neighborhood, he laughed and asked, "Do you have a gun?". We got the message... On the walk back to the station, a group of teens came racing down the stairs screaming something about shooting someone. Our hearts were racing....but we made it safe to the station and back on the train. (Which, by the way, was a screeching, pounding, graffiti covered disaster). Oh, what a joy it is to be an American these days-- so much to be proud about??!! Crumbling infrastructure...in debt up to our ears to the Chinese....a failing war. Can it get any better?

Boston 2007 "The Cajun Invasion"

A real feeling of coming home! Since selling our house and leaving Boston 6 years ago, our annual fall visit to Salem gives us the chance to get our dose of the northeast - the people, the architecture and of course, that great Boston accent. Pulling into 'our' site at Winter Island, waking up to the views of Salem Harbor outside our windows. How uplifting. It makes our annual visit to doctors and dentists bearable. It's hard to believe that we've been "on the road" for 5 years. Time flies and the life of a "road-dog" is something that never gets old.

Then, the quiet ended and the Cajuns arrived….We had a great time, but it was exhausting! Imagine trying to coordinate six very independent folks--it was a bit like herding cats! We'd have Brenda boldly wandering off in one direction and John and Larry searching out the closest construction project. But, we survived it all- and had a great time.

They arrived on Sunday (Sept 30) in Salem (Boston) --three motorhomes arriving in a caravan. It caused quite a traffic jam in the park. I actually planned the meal for that first night (not something I normally do- it's quite intimidating to be the main chef in a group of spectacular Cajun cooks. While it may take me days to get everything pulled together- this group can whip up a meal for 20 in just a few minutes. And, of course, their food is fantastic!) I did manage to get the men to do the grilling - and at that point, felt that I could turn over the cooking to the Cajuns.

Imagine 4 motorhomes parked side by side, facing the Salem harbor. It was chilly at night, so the guys rigged up a huge blue tarp to go between two of the coaches to break the wind. Well, after a few bottles of wine, we started joking about the "FEMA tarp". That led to joking about putting a sign on the tarp to play a joke on Charlie, the park manager. (we're very good friends with Charlie. He met the Cajuns last year and by the end of the week, we were doing parties in the parking lot - with swamp pop music, "frozen pain killers" and gumbo). So, we taped together paper to make a huge sign that said:

"FEMA APPLICATIONS ACCEPTED. SEE CHARLIE"

The next morning, Charlie showed up, howling with laughter. It started a daily ritual - every night, we'd come up with a new sign. The locals would drive by just to see the signs- and the tourist trolley would drive by and stop on every trip.
We did the whole Boston thing--trolley tours, walking tours- and expanded our touring to some towns on the North Shore (gorgeous scenery, little towns, cute shops....the stuff the guys hated, but the women loved).

We took them to Gloucester ( Remember "The Perfect Storm" with George Clooney- about the fishermen who went out and never came back. It was based on a true story of Gloucester fishermen and was filmed in the town- so we went to the local bar, the Crow's Nest, and had a few beers!). Then it was on to Plymouth (Mayflower, the Pilgrims, Plymouth Rock).

The Salem park is also an active marina- and not the "boating crowd", but real fishing. John and Larry met some locals who went out daily with their lobster traps. One thing led to another - and we ended up buying lobsters from them and doing a cookout. Lobsters, fresh corn on the cob, pasta..... it was heavenly!

"FROZEN PAIN KILLERS!!"

The week was really fairly relaxing--since 2 of the 3 couples had been with us last year, we didn't have to do quite as much "Tour leading" - and since the Salem park was so lovely, everyone was happy with lots of time to enjoy the local scene. And- Charlie was a godsend! He really loves the Cajuns and this year went all out. He'd come over for happy hour with his blender and make up pitchers of "frozen pain killers".

Then, on Friday night, he opened up the function hall at the park and we had a party with his group of friends (4 couples that vacation together every year). Everyone brought food and wine - and it was a meeting of North and South. By the end of the evening, everyone was planning next year’s event. Then, on Saturday, Paul and Robin (owners of a huge boat) invited everyone out for the day for a cruise.

Tackling the London Traffic

We decided to tackle the rental car return early- rather than try to navigate through London rush hour traffic on the day of our flight. With multiple maps and verbal directions from Alice and Zach, we started off. We made our first 3 turns successfully, then ended up on the A40 going in the wrong direction. We got off and tried to make our way back onto the A40. We could see the ramp, but couldn't get to it. After much stress, and some directions from a Pak man, we got back on and made it to the M4. We made one last bad turn off the rotary at Heathrow and John decided to back up the ramp to get back to the rotary rather than find ourselves back on a motorway going the wrong direction. We didn't make any new friends, but did mange to get to the National car return.

We took the tube back to Queen's Park – 2 transfers and a horde of holiday makers and teens heading to the big festival in Notting Hill.

It was great to get back to Alice and Zach's – sans car – and relax for the evening.

From Lowestoft to London

Time to depart Lowestoft. John managed to get us some coffee – after an hour of walking the town. We headed off, watching the traffic jams heading away from us- towards the coast for the long bank holiday weekend. With time to spare, we decided to make a stop in Chelmsford to see the cathedral where Thomas Hooker preached and lectured. His themes were too liberal for the Bishop and so Hooker and a group of sympathizers set off in 1632 first for Holland and eventually Boston, finally settling in Hartford, CT. Using the Park and Ride, we got into the city and found the cathedral.

It was quite grand in scale- but lacked the beauty of the Lowestoft church.

Back on the road with London in our headlights. Not sure what to expect, we made our way into London – with multiple maps in hand and keeping our eye on the road watching every sign. The British have an odd and very irritating habit of signing to places and not to cardinal directions. So, if you're on the A40 and want to go west, you need to know the towns that you're heading toward – and the towns on each successive sign may change. Add to that the cars with no compass! We did great until we missed the turn for the A5 and were suddenly trying to navigate the streets of London, hoping to find a street name that we recognized. We finally saw Dyer Street and figured out that we could make a few turns and find Brooksville Avenue. We arrived to an empty house – except for Lewis, their 2 year old black lab. John tormented him by talking to him through the mail slot. We waited and finally left a note on the door and headed for the local pub. We had no sooner gotten our first drink than we saw Alice and Zach walking down the street with their luggage. Their train had been delayed for 2 hours.

We had some drinks and dinner at the house and met Lewis, who had, with proper introductions, become our new best friend.

St Mary's Church in Lowestoft

With our records in hand, we headed to the Church of St Margaret. We had some idea of the gravestone locations, so we wandered about Section VIIIb and found the tomb of Will and William Neslen, but couldn't find Richard and Margaret (Samuel Neslen's parents). We moved our search to section VII and immediately found the tombstones of the Liffens, Margaret's parents.

With a funeral going on in the church hall, we borrowed a bucket and scrubber and set to cleaning off the graves as best we could How strange to see the graves of Samuel's grandparents. His grandmother lived into her 80's and saw the entire family leave for the States. We knocked on the vicar's house and his son let us into the church. This was the church where Samuel and Eunice Neslen were married and where most of their children were baptized.

We took once last walk through the cemetery and stumbled on the grave of Richard and Margaret Neslen and of Samuel's brother, Richard, who drowned in the Oulton Broad at the age of 21. What luck!

Just down the street from the parish church was a huge LDS ward house. We tried to get in touch with the local Family History Library, to no avail and the ward house was entirely surrounded by a huge cast iron and locked at the gates with very solid locks.

We walked from the hotel to the waterfront of Oulton Broad which was packed with families picnicking, playing on the swing sets, eating ice cream. We stopped at the Lowestoft Museum, a local collection dating from the Bronze age to today, with a bit of everything in their old cases. They featured a large collection of Lowestoft Porcelain (the "famous"? Lowestoft Porcelain). The old factory was on Bell Lane where the Neslen's lived. The volunteers at the Museum were interested in our family quest and although there are no Neslen's left in town, there are a few Liffen's. They gave us the name of Stanley Liffen, an 80 year old gentlemen who is the Wesleyan Methodist minister.

We spotted an Indian restaurant for dinner- the Balti. Expensive, mediocre food and filled with boat folk.

Exploring the Lowestoft of the Neslens

We got up to catch the train to downtown Lowestoft- a short 4 minute train ride, but worth every penny – avoiding the traffic and the parking in a British town. We quickly found the library and the Town Records office which housed a large family history section. The librarian, a large woman with thick, bright green eyeshadow, was at the desk. She was a great resource. She quickly pointed us to the directories, the tithe apportionment books and we were off on our search for the Neslen's in Lowestoft.

We not only found maps and property records, but also found the church records on births, baptisms, marriages and burials – and a listing of the gravestone inscriptions in the Church of St. Margaret. It turns out that for most of his life, Samuel Neslen was a member of the Church of St. Margaret (the church of England). Later in life, he converted to Wesleyan Methodism and was a preacher at the Wesleyan Methodist Church in Lowestoft. Then he met the Mormons! Kerry found a small pamphlet written by a Mr. Larter detailing the history of the Mormon Church in Lowestoft.

With some basic information in hand, we took off on foot to find what was left of the houses and churches. We found that Chapel Street and Bell Lane (now Crown Street) where the Neslen's lived appeared to have been demolished. With no addresses, we weren't able to determine if the remaining houses could have been one of theirs, although they were of the right vintage.

We found that the Wesleyan Methodist Church had been demolished and a new building housing the elderly had been put up in it's place. The architect tried to keep the lines of the old building but ultimately, it's still a 1960's building.

We found Rant Score, where the Mormon's held their first services. The "scores" were streets cut into the limestone hills leading down to the sea. The original "church" was in a stable on Rant Score.

The old part of Lowestoft on High Street is still intact and many of the old buildings remain. It was eerie to imagine Susannah and C.V. walking these same streets.

It was time to head back to the hotel after a successful day. We stopped at the George Borrow Pub, an old railway pub. We were immediately befriended by "Scottish Curly" Dressed in an old white t-shirt with a huge gut, he was having a pint in the pub/hotel. He visited Oulton Broad four times a year – coming from his house in Scotland. We heard tales of his life in the army as a parachuter. Catching about 70% of what he said (that Scottish accent is deadly), we made our escape, stopped at the local Indian take-away and got dinner for the room.

To the coastal town of Lowestoft

We checked out of the hotel and did a walk-around of the Barns Hotel. The property is on lands belonging to the Whitbread estate on the River Ouse in the Cardington section of Bedford. (Alice Whitbread married Gerard Spencer in 1600 and became parents of the New England Spencer brothers. The main buildings were restored in the 1980's and converted into the hotel.

Another garden center breakfast. We pinched a knife and some mayo packets to make sandwiches for our drive. As we were leaving, we met a couple with a shitz-tzu like dog. She described it as a shitz-tzu p poodle mix – "You can call him a shi-poo or a poo-shit!"

On the drive to Lowestoft, we saw the "Park n' Bite" in the layby (translation- a roach coach in the parking area by the road).

We arrived in Lowestoft to gray skies and outrageously heavy traffic. We found our hotel, the Wherry Hotel, right on Oulton Broad. The hotel was a lovely old Victorian with tiny rooms, but lots of character. We ate our sandwiches in the lobby, waiting for our room to be ready then stopped at the library to get a lay of the land and check email.

We checked in at 3 PM, stopped into the hotel pub for a drink and had an early evening "carvery" at the hotel. Our first British "carvery" was a once in a lifetime-never to be repeated experience. The carvery is like a small buffet- roasties (roasted potatoes), jacket potatoes, chips (fries), overcooked veggies and the choice of 3 hunks of meat- pork, beef or turkey. We marveled at the fact that the UK has some of the most wonderful Indian restaurants, but their traditional food is awful.

Following in the Spencer footsteps

After our regular breakfast at the garden center, we looked at our options for the day. A trip to Althorp, Lady Diana's home, was one possibility- but at $25.00/head entrance fee, we opted for a trip to Sawston to see if we could track down some of the Hannah King story.

With drizzle, gray skies and blustery wind, we stumbled onto a sign for the library – but arrived to find that it wasn't open until 3 in the afternoon. We made a few inquiries and were told to try the Parish Council just down the street. "Ask for Margaret". We found Margaret and the mother lode of information about the town of Sawston. She was interested in history and her own family history, so had done a lot of work on the town. We only had limited information on the King's – an address of "Dernford Dale". Margaret gave us a map and we set off to see if we could find the farm house. We turned down a dirt road marked "Dernford Farm" and found a gorgeous old Georgian house at the end of the road. Next to the farm house, we met Simon, a worker in the business next door. He told us that the owner of the house was Audrey Gregg, a woman in her 80's and very hard of hearing. We knocked on every possible door, with no luck. But, we did get a chance to wander around the house and through the gardens, filled with plum trees and pear trees. It brought back memories of reading Hannah's diary and her love of her gardens in her home in Sawston.

We met Margaret back at the Parish Council office and she gave us mounds of information, including the Church records showing all of the King family They show Thomas King as being a farmer of Dernford, which Margaret said would imply significant holdings. The town in the 1800's was primarily based on farming, then later paper making and leatherworks.

She also told us the story of Thomas Evans, the tyrant of Saltston. He paid his men in money and partly in beer – sold in his pub. So, if you didn't drink, you didn't get your full pay. He was church warden for the local church and when the non-conformists began to build their own church, his men would go at night and knock it down.

The town also has a tradition of "town peas". John Huntington had a field sown with peas for the poor of Sawston. Every year since the 1500's, the towns people have a day of free pea-picking.

Unfortunately, Sawston Hall, the manor house of the town, is currently being renovated and made into a hotel, so we couldn't get onto the grounds or in the house. Margaret told us of the monk holes where the monks would hide to escape persecution during Henry VIII reign.

St Mary's Parish Church in Sawston -

Armed with a bag of papers about Sawston, we headed back to our Bedford. Hankering for another Indian dinner, we stopped in Sandy at the Ghandi Indian restaurant. It was dark inside, but the door was open. We walked in and John knocked at the kitchen door and was greeted by a half naked Indian guy – wearing a towel coming straight from the shower. He told us to come back at 5:30. We opted for a take out of doner kebab and took it back to the hotel.

The Spencers in England

Rather than an 8£ pound continental breakfast ($16 US), we drove to the local garden center where they have a large café. Breakfast- fried egg and toast with a latte was only $8 for two (although, one piece of toast did cost $1.00)

Our first stop was in Blunham at St Edmund's Parish Church. This is one of the earliest known Spencer churches, serving the Spencers of South Mylls. John Dunne ("For Whom the Bell Tolls") was a one time rector of this parish church.

From Blunham, we drove to Edworth to the Church of St. George, just south of Biggleswade.

To get to the church, which is now decommissioned, you have to pass through the farm of the Smyth family. They have a 4000 acre farm that has been in the family for over 173 years. The farm house was a beautiful Georgian surrounded by lovely gardens. The Smyths have the key to the old church.

This church has the oldest known connections with the New England Spencers. John and Ann Spencer have a memorial brass plaque on the wall of the church.

The church was built using clunch, a porous local stone, which over the years has been penetrated by water, causing considerable damage.

We stopped at the White Horse Pub across from the Whitbred Estate. We had another boring English lunch – tomato soup for a mere $8. We tried to get to the Whitbred Estate but the office administration people explained that it would take mountains of paperwork and approval from the family. So, we snapped a photo from the driveway and we were on our way. The Whitbreds who remained in England became one of Bedfordshire's most prominent families. Samuel Whitbread, the former Whitbred brewery chairman, is now the Queen's representative in Bedfordshire.

Our last family church was in Upper Gravenhurst, St Gile's Church. We arrived to find that it had just been decommissioned in July and it's fate was unknown. At this church, Alice Whitbred married Gerard Spencer in 1600. They were the parents of the Spencers of the Great Migration.

As we were taking photos outside the church, the incredibly talkative man walked by and told us the story of the town's attempt to save the church and then proceeded to tell us all about his travels in the U.S. With an excuse that we had to meet friends, we left Upper Gravenhurst and headed for the tiny village of Cople.

The All Saint's Church in Cople didn't have direct Spencer family connections- it was the church of the Spencers who migrated to Virginia. There was a funeral just departing the church so we got a chance to see the inside before they locked it up.

After a brief visit, we stopped at the Five Bells Pub across the street for a drink.

We met a wonderful couple from the next village in for their nightly drink – Jenny and Tom Tonsell. We were craving Indian and asked the pub owner where the closest restaurant was. He brought out a take-away menu and offered to serve our take-away in his restaurant. He also owns a restaurant in Kathmandu and one of his employees, Hari Bagale was in the UK. We agreed that a trip to Nepal would be part of our India adventure

From Sunderland to Stotfold

Gordon was off to China early in the morning- and we were off to Bedford. We were sad to say our goodbyes to ‘the Brits”. We arrived to typical British weather- gray, damp and cold, a bit like our spirits.

We dropped our bags at the Barns Hotel and drove to Stotfold to the Church of St. Mary the Virgin. Stotfold was the last home of the Spencer brothers before they migrated to the States and is the church where the brothers were christened. We found the church locked, but knocked on the door of the vicor and her husband was kind enough to open the church for us.

We were able to see the baptismal font of Gerard Spencer -

ASDA and Genealogy

A visit to “ASDA” (sounds like "mazda")- the British Walmart. Well, like Walmart, except they have wonderful things like: spotted dick and fuzzy drinks (sodas), bin liners (trash bags), and bloomers and baps. Instead of a seafood department, they have a “Fish Monger” and instead of aisle for diet foods, they have a “Free From Food” aisle.

John and I spent part of the day at the library in downtown Sunderland. We did have to negotiate the Saturday shoppers traffic jam, but finally parked and found our way to the library. The local history section was filled with white haired pensioners- most of them local amateur genealogists, who were very willing to help us with our research. One of them even showed up on our door that evening- in the pouring rain, to bring us some census records that she had found.

We came home and had a great evening of Indian (you can never have too much) and wine.

More odd British-ism's
Knackered—tired
Knacker – testicles
Snecker – a guy who steals your beer at the pub
Stella Artois beer – called "wife beater" -- it has a higher alcohol content than other beers.
The saying: “It's either 6 or two three's”.
Cracket – a step-stool
Tappers – one who taps your shoulder and requests that you buy him a beer Knackers –blokes who steal your beer when you're not looking.

Hadrians Wall and Jean's First Dinner Party

We woke up to the news that Countrywide Bank in the States was facing a possible financial collapse. Since we had serious money in the bank, we had visions of being financially wiped out – while we were on the other side of the Atlantic unable to do anything.

With that hanging over our head, we took off to visit Hadrians wall. While Jean and Gordon remembered their school day visits to the sites, we had the pressure of Alice’s love of the wall (the basis for her first book). Between the rain and the stomach aching stress of the Countrywide dilemma, we really didn’t’ appreciate this piece of history the way we should have.

What we really needed was a blow-out evening of wine and Indian food. Fortunately, that was the plan. Gordon’s brother, Ray and his girlfriend, Carol, were coming over to meet the “Yanks”, as well as Jean’s good friend, Sylvia. This was Jean and Gordon’s first dinner party in their new house- and we made sure that it was a success-with huge quantities of take-out Indian food and lots of wine. It was a brilliant evening (as evidenced by the silly looks on our faces).

Coals to Newcastle

Gordon had to work today, so Jean suggested a trip to Newcastle (home of the Geordies!)- just a short Metro ride away. We got in to this beautiful city and hopped on the double decker bus tour.

One of the most beautiful sights in the city is the new passenger bridge (a compressions arch suspended-deck bridge) across the River Tyne. It was most amazing to see it’s majestic opening.

We stopped for lunch and met up with a couple with “the devil children”. It was actually quite refreshing to see a British couple acting more like American parents- completely unaware that their children were causing entire tables to move as far as possible away from them in the restaurant.

Before we knew it, we were back on the metro and Gordon was arriving home from Sheffield. While Jean protested that we were having too many Indian dinners, we couldn’t get enough. We decided to walk to a local Indian restaurant—that seemed to be miles away.