November 7, 1999 – From Samuel Johnson to Bill Bryson

Caroline is surprised to see me this morning. They didn’t hear me come in late last night. Joanie, a guest who is in town for a Chekov theater workshop, joins me at breakfast. I sit with my second cup of coffee and write out postcards. I have a senior moment and can’t remember if Aunt Kay-Lee’s box number is 29 or 229. Caroline says, “Wait until you’re my age, your brain is always muddled.”

I take the train to nearby Lichfield to see the exquisite, three-spired, medieval cathedral there. It is meticulously carved and covered with over 100 statues of kings and biblical figures. I walk the entire perimeter of the cathedral and then pop into the gift shop. The minister and his wife come in. Calling each other dear and sweetheart, they buy candles but are in a hurry and ask the cashier to make a note so they can take care of the bill later. After they leave, the cashier smiles at me and says, “If you can’t trust the vicar, who can you trust?” My thought exactly.

I walk back to the center of town to see Dr. Samuel Johnson’s birthplace. Johnson was a popular 18^th century author, wit, and man about town. He famously said, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” Unfortunately, the house/museum is closed, despite my guidebook saying it is open every day. In the market square is a monument with Dr. Johnson sitting deep in thought.

Johnson compiled the first dictionary in 1755. It is funny and often irreverent. He famously defined oats, for instance, as “a grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.”

I cannot resist a High Street sweet shop because of its name—Truly Scrumptious—a song from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, one of my favorite movies of all time. I buy a piece of fudge and walk back to catch the train for home.

In London last week, the other fellows introduced me to the author, Bill Bryson whose wit I equate to Samuel Johnson. I am reading his book, Notes from a Small Island. Bryson, an American, lived in England for 20 years and wrote a fond farewell travelogue about his last trip around the country before he returned to the U.S. His book is funny, heartfelt, and nostalgic. I love this passage about English town names.

There are some 30,000 place names in Britain, a good half of them, I would guess, notable or arresting in some way. There are villages that seem to hide some ancient and possible dark secret—Husbands Bosworth, Rime Intrinseca, Whiteladies Aston. There are villages that sound like toilet cleansers—Potto, Sanahole, and Durno. Villages that sound like skin complaints—Scabcleuch, Whiterashes, Scurlage, and Sockburn. You can find fertilizers—Hastigrow; shoe deodorizers—Powfoot; breath fresheners—Minto; and dog food—Whelpo. You can find villages that have an attitude problem—Seething, Mockbeggar, and Wrangle. Some parts of the country seem to specialize in certain themes. Kent has a peculiar fondness for foodstuffs—like Ham and Sandwich. Dorset goes in for characters in a Barbara Cartland novel like Bradford Peverell, Compton Valence, Langton Herring, and Wootton Fitzpaine.

Bill Bryson, Notes from a Small Island

I love every word of this book and cannot put it down.

The Guy Fawkes celebrations continue. In my room, I can hear fireworks all around me on both sides of the house like surround-sound. Several bangs are so close and so loud, they shake the house like a huge crack of thunder would. From my window, I can see the colored streams of sparks floating around the clock tower. Evidently, people buy their own fireworks and set them off in their yards, which is perfectly legal here.

• In today’s news: The Australians narrowly vote to keep the Queen rather than move to a Republic. Pundits and political writers note that it is probably not so much that everyone loves the Monarchy, rather they disliked the alternative proposed—a president appointed by a parliament, not popularly elected. The Queen is happy with the election result, but is said to have been surprised by the strength of the republican sentiment. Prince Charles is buoyed by the vote.