Home Again, Tired

I would love to post some lovely photos of my trip to London and Oxford. It seems I have taken a couple hundred and need to do some sorting and deleting. Also that pesky laundry stuff is waiting to be done.

More on the trip tomorrow.

One discovery we made over there is the British obsession with perfect grass. A gardener in Oxford had gathered a small crowd. They had never seen anybody comb the grass before. Neither had I. Or perhaps he was brushing the grass. He walked back and forth over the lawn with a five-foot wide brush behind him, leaving a perfect pattern. The day before, my daughter had been reprimanded for running over the grass. She was happily running and a woman comes running, arms waving over her head as if she were instructing the landing of a large aircraft. "No, no, no, keep off the grass. Keep off the grass. Take the paths, keep off the grass. No. No. No."

What's up with that?