In Land Manatee-oriented news, I’m flying out to the UK to attend my cousin’s wedding. I’m going to still try to post, but between hanging out with my beer-swilling cousins, eating copious amounts of Indian food and having my culturally-minded aunt dragging me around to historical sites, I can’t guarantee anything. Plus, I’ll be at the mercy of my Uncle Bernard’s dodgy Wi-Fi. His house is like the Bermuda Triangle of phone and internet service, so we’ll see.

Whenever I visit, I normally stay at my Aunt Bernadette’s place. It’s a lovely house in a nice village overlooking the Dee estuary. Well-cared for, it has reliable Wi-Fi, a beautiful view of the Welsh hills across the river, and is very relaxing. It’s great for taking long walks along the water. However, my sister, Bridget, disrupted my plans when she decided last second that she could attend the wedding. (My featured photo is the view from “my” bedroom *sigh*).

Being the first-born grandchild, I’ve long held a certain minor celebrity on that side of the family, but my sister’s trump card is she’s the only girl of our generation. Plus, my mom died before my sister had her kids, so Bridget made my Aunt Bernadette their surrogate grandmother. I found this to be a very crafty way on her part to neutralize my Golden Nephew status. (In fairness, the other available spots for us to stay are either dude-centric or filled with crying infants, but still, I’ll miss the quiet of Auntie B and Happy Al’s house).

Anyway, the upshot is I was unceremoniously booted from my sanctuary and will now be residing at 22 Kings Lane with my Uncle Bernard and cousin Little Bernard (or Bernie, as he goes by these days — he hasn’t been little for quite some time, tipping the scales at around 19 stone — 266 lbs or 120 kg). When he broke his leg, he moved in temporarily (in theory) with his dad and rented out his place. Daddy Bernard warned me that Bernie snores like an industrial saw, but he’s placed me down the hall, so hopefully, it’s far enough away.

 

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Now, 22 King’s Lane was the preferred destination when I was a kid as there were the five Dillon brothers to hang out with and my beloved Aunt Sheila, who was a wonderful cook. I had so much fun as a kid, though it was a bit mad at times. With Auntie Sheila no longer with us, Uncle Bernard has been able to indulge in his hobby of bookselling unchecked. His house is awash in an astonishing amount of books. (I’m not joking, they’re stacked everywhere.) I would call him a hoarder except he is constantly moving them out only to replace them.  In fact, last time I visited the UK and went over to spend some time with him, his dining table was barely visible. He wanted to know if I wanted to help sort books. (Luckily, one of his sons showed up to collect me — phew!)

I guess one of the benefits to 22 King’s Lane is I do like reading. At least there is never a shortage of something interesting to dive into.

Anyway, hopefully, I’ll post, but if there is a hiatus — we’ll, you’ll know why.

P.S.

Arizona’s most famous denizen, Grumpy Cat, has died! RIP, Grumpy Cat — we’ll miss your piercing look of contempt.