Sandy Supposes....

C.A.T. Cheerio, Adieu, Tarah

PROMPT: Final farewell to London and Backpacker Buds

         Where has the time gone? Has it been a month already? I don't exactly want a do-over. All the fun and shenanigans will stay with me , but I want to continue creating them. This final day in London is bittersweet.

          Here's my clever segue, are you ready for it? Speaking of the passage of time, 2016 marks four-hundred years since Shakespeare's death. Shakespeare, The Bard of Avon, the writer known solely by his surname. He was ahead of his time. Now many entertainers and celebrities make their marks with one memorable moniker. He paved the way for the Chers, the Princes, the Madonnas, ( there are two of these, each distinctly different) and the Elvises, (or is it Elvisi?). Shakespeare was and is the bane of high school students 'round the world. His writing is mandatory study. How many English students struggle and grumble their way through 'Hamlet', or 'Romeo and Juliet'? Those that take the time to decipher his turn of phrase realize that he was quite the student himself of human behaviour. He understood love, sorrow, jealousy, pride, grief, lust, ambition, and his characters breathed as if alive. How fitting then that we backpackers exxplore Shakespeare's life today. We are feeling a mixed gamut of emotions with our imminent separation on our minds. Let's have fun, damn it! "Out, out damn spot, er, I mean damn melancholy!"

          So, we explore the places/homes of Shakespeare. He was born in Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwickshire. I never knew that he only lived to the age of fifty-two, yet in his lifetime he wrote many plays and poems. Wandering through countryside that must be somewhat like it was in his time, was like a pilgrimage. At one time, he lived near the Avon River, he played/worked at a farm, he strolled through Anne Hathaway's garden.

         I discovered that his birth home was refurbished in the 18th century by a group spearheaded by writers including Charles Dickens. Now that is respect.

         Rambling in the fresh air, and reflecting on all things Shakespearean, works up an appetite. What a novel concept a Food Tour, a walking tour in search of delicacies in London's East End. To eat, or not to eat, that is the question. Whether 'tis agrumbling in the stomach... If I had been cinching in my waist with a belt, I'd be loosening it. If I owned baggy, elastic-closure sweat/jogging pants, I'd pull them on. If I prepared in advance and Googled binge-eating tips, or found stomach-stretching exercises, I'd be trying them now. Actually, I did have some conditioning of a sort. Growing up, my Dad was the cook of the family, and he liked to experiment. Long story short, my stomach has become impervious to spices, or anything. He must have anticipated this moment. Hopefully, 'Let's rumble' would not morph into something else.

         Giggling, I traipsed along with SB Musing . I heard Lyn's a Witchy Woman and Fivesixer mention a 'gastronome Guide'. Yep, we both envisioned a 'gnome', or is the correct term 'little person'? We really howled when our Foodie Facilitator did indeed appear to lack stature. No matter, he knew his food stuff. Okay, we tittered again when we said out loud 'Spitalfields'. Actually, we snorted and 'spitaled'.

          I'm not sure, but I believe our Food Finder muttered a little something that sounded a bit like, "Get stuffed." I didn't think we needed his blessing, but so be it. Our fist bite was a bacon sandwich served to us at St. John Bread and Wine.Sally noticed me eyeing mine a bit suspiciously, so I shared that my British mom-in-law offers guests a boiled bacon sandwich all the time, and no one accepts. To her, all pork is bacon, and not the crispy meat strips served with breakie. This was followed by dessert, a bread pudding, yum.

          Strolling slowly and carefully, we next sampled artisan cheese. Not bad, not bad at all. Poppie's offered us fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. Kit and I were trying to read the headlines and news bits. So far, so good. No belching, or blow-outs. I attempted some deep-breathing exercises and massaged my belly. I could do this. My favourites were just a short amble away. Curries, hurray! Oh, they were delish! Apondia seemed to have tears in her eyes, and others complained of smoke escaping from their ears. Thanks again Dad for my stomach of steel.

          For some reason, my feet were a little reluctant to carry me to my bagel and my second dessert, a salted caramel tart. Hey, this a virtual stuffing sortie, so I couldn't possibly be packing on the pounds. Calories cannot cluster and collect just by association, can they? No matter, there was no skipping, samples, or feet. I was waddling. The food was weighing me down, but so was my farewell. I wonder what kind of a load limit my plane has in force?

          Ah, Shakespeare said it best, "parting is such sweet sorrow." This backpacking expedition through Europe has been fantastic! Ol' Will also wrote, "All the world's a stage, and all men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances." This blogging was so much fun, a great outlet for our imaginations. Alas, it must fade into the sunset. We certainly witnessed many of those beauties on our travels.

         Now, I'm not a blubberer, not usually anyway. I'm more of a blatherer. I'll talk and talk, trying to delay the inevitable. My big blog backpack and my heart are full, full of memories and laughter. My heart is also a little heavier, no it's not all the artery-clogging food. Bloggers are the bestest people. My journal is much fatter, and I'm toting a few less pens. If I may quote 'The Golden Girls', thank you for being my friend. SB Musing Kit Sally Fivesixer WakeUpAndLive️~🚬🚭2024 Apondia Jellyfish 💙 Carly and schnujo, sorry I don't know your 'suser' name. You guys are great!! Lyn's a Witchy Woman BRAVO! Thanks and Merci beaucoup! As the Brits say, I am chuffed to bits! I bid you all a fond adieu.... TARAH! CHEERIO!