For the last few weeks at Simon’s school they have been learning about London and the United Kingdom. To celebrate, the nursery hosted a proper British Tea Party and the kids performed songs and stories they have learned this term.  When we got there Simon just strutted around the place with his hands on his hips, as confident and satisfied as a four year old could be.  It was totally adorable.  I snapped a few pictures, and then they had a little dance party on the patio while they waited for everyone to show up. 

They started the program by singing “God Save the Queen” which I’ll have to get on video sometime, because he finally knows all the words and it’s totes adorbs.   I didn’t think to record anything during the program until it was almost over, and then I was kicking myself.  

A day or two before the tea party Simon and I were walking home from school and he was reciting every one else’s lines in the program.  I had seen his teachers handing out slips of paper to parents with the words their child needed to memorize.  I asked Simon if he had a part and he said no.  I was kind of disappointed, because I knew he would do a good job, and I know his teachers love his little American accent, but I figured they had their reasons.  So I was totally surprised when Simon stood up and Miss Julie gave him the microphone.  “Say hello” she whispered to him and he quickly obeyed. 

“Hello everybody!”  There were audible sighs of adoration, I’m sure there were.   He then went on to recite all the words to “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” as each of the children in his class held up corresponding pictures.  It was such a proud mama moment.  He was a star!

They did a little presentation about London landmarks, then they sang some nursery rhymes, and finished the show with an enthusiastic rendition of “Let it Go.”  After the program we had tea and scones and cucumber sandwiches.  And then there was more dancing. 

The weather was perfect and the food was delicious (but food is almost always delicious to me) and Simon had such a great time.  It was so delightful for me to see him in his element like that and I feel so grateful for his teachers and British education.  And I somehow managed to get a photo of Si with his favorite adults.  (Pronounced ad-ults.) 

A couple weeks ago (I’m way behind on this blog business…) it was a gorgeous day so I let Simon skip out on school and we went for a walk in the city.  I had no plan, but there are Shaun the Sheep statues about, so I figured we would follow a Shaun trail.  I took so many photos though that I’ll have to make the Shaun pictures a separate post.  It was really just a perfect day. 

After we crossed over to the north side of the river we found a few more Shauns around the Tower and then meandered our way through The City.  (Up until recently I never understood what was meant by “The City” – you can read all about it here, but it’s basically the central part of London where the business is done.  It was the original financial district, before Canary Wharf, but still is bustling with navy suits.  It’s not the touristy part of the city- although there is plenty to see there, including St. Paul’s, but it is virtually shut-down on the weekends.) 

I texted Richard to see if he wanted to meet up for an impromptu lunch and we found a really tasty place in Leadenhall market.  I just happened to stumble upon Leadenhall Market, but isn’t it beautiful? 

It was the loveliest of days. 

One day I was ordering a book on Amazon and it occurred to me that it might be fun to go into London and buy the book at an actual bookstore.  Waterstones is the UK’s largest bookseller, along the lines of Barnes & Noble, so I decided to check out their flagship store on Picadilly Street in central London.  It was a rainy day so I packed an umbrella and a lunch for Simon to eat on the train into the city.  

On our walk from the station to the store we discovered Burlington House, home to five learned societies including the Geological Society, the Royal Astronomical Society and the Royal Society of Chemistry.  But it is more well known as the venue for the Royal Academy’s temporary art exhibitions, one of which we saw in the courtyard. 

Waterstones flagship store is in the building that used to be home to Simpsons, a men’s clothing department store from the 1930s.  It’s nothing too notable from the outside.  

Inside, it is only remarkable in the way all bookstores are remarkable.  They suck me in and I feel like I’ll never read all that I want to read. 

 I think Simon was bewitched too, with all his favorite book characters on posters and on shiny, bright, brand new book covers.  Everywhere he turned he squealed the name of a beloved creature. “Paddington! The Very Hungry Caterpillar!” And of course, “The Gruffalo!” They also had some toys and dress-ups on the children’s floor, and then we sat at a table and colored for a bit. 

Of course the book I wanted was almost twice as expensive as the same copy on Amazon, but it was worth the experience I suppose.  And I cheated a bit and took pictures with my phone of all the books Simon and I wanted to buy, so I could scout them on Amazon.  

We left the store, walked through the rain back to the station and had a quiet ride home, in time to pick up the big kids from school.  

**The book I bought was Man’s Search for Meaning.  Richard and I are going to Krakow and Auschwitz in a couple weeks, and I think I need some emotional prophylactics, if there are such a thing.  

We were late to school in the morning, but Cindy and Kayden were late too, so we waited outside the gates for them.  Soon enough they came running up the hill and Kayden rushed in to catch up with his class and Cindy and I walked Simon down the hill to nursery.  It was Cindy’s day off and she had sent me a message on What’sApp asking if I wanted to get together while the kids were at school.   She waited outside the door while I took Simon into his class.  As soon as I hung up his backpack he ran in.  He won’t let me kiss him goodbye anymore, and he giggled when I pretended to pout.  

Cindy and I walked back to her place and I sat down at the kitchen table while she made smoothies.  We talked with Mike and his friend Phil before they started working for the day on a house up the street, and I made silly faces at Tyler while he ate his Frosted Flakes.  After the guys left, Cindy smothered crescent rolls with Nutella and baked them in the oven and we chatted at the table for a bit.  While Cindy cleaned up Tyler and dressed him, I watched the end of an episode of Undercover Boss, and felt bad for all the employees who didn’t get spied on and therefore didn’t get any special treatment.  

We went out for a walk, and stopped at Cindy’s neighbor’s house to drop off Mike’s keys and to ask her about piano lessons.  I’d like to find someone to teach Cameron and Eli and she lives really close to their school.  Kayden takes lessons and really likes it.  We continued on our walk and passed Simon’s Nursery where the kids were all playing outside so we shouted and waved.  Mr. Mickey opened the gate and let us in so we could say hello.  Tyler jumped right in and played in the sandbox with the other kids while Mr. Mickey made a sales pitch to Cindy about what a great nursery it is, even though Tyler is already registered to start there in the fall.  We said good-bye to Simon and told him we’d be back soon to pick him up. From there we walked to the high street to buy a few bits.  Cindy invited us for dinner so we picked up another chicken. There were some discounted parsnips and Cindy asked if we liked those.  I wasn’t sure how to answer, but I bought the parsnips.  Lastly we stopped at the butcher/pie shop and bought some pies for lunch.  I picked chicken and ham, Cindy’s favorite is mince and onion and then we got some for the kids and Mike and Phil.  

We walked back the nursery, picked up Simon and went back to Cindy’s for lunch.  The pies were delicious and when we were finished we each had to spoon-feed our little boys who are perfectly capable of feeding themselves but seemed to be too distracted to do so.  It was a beautiful afternoon and we sat in the sunshine in the garden and let the kids play. After lunch Cindy prepped the chickens and chopped vegetables while I lazily sat at her kitchen table asking her about herself and her family.  She was born in England, but her parents emigrated from Vietnam in the 70s.  Her mom is Vietnamese and her dad is Chinese.  Mike’s parents fit the same pattern and I ashamedly admitted that when looking at Asian people I can’t really tell them apart.   They laughed, but I hate it when I feel like I’m part of a stereotype.  They probably hate it too.  

After we finished getting lunch ready we took Simon and Tyler down to the park.  They played for a bit and then it was time to go pick up the bigger kids from school.   With six children and two scooters in tow, we went to another park for a little while and then made our way back to the house.  Cindy finished preparing the food while I continued to sit worthlessly at the kitchen table and ask more personal questions.  She made everything look so easy and once again I wondered why I don’t invite people over more often.  How lovely would it be to have someone to talk to while I peeled carrots and mixed gravy?  She also introduced me to the many uses of the electric tea kettle, which is a standard item in every British home, but I’d never thought to use ours since we don’t drink tea.  She also taught me how to cook parsnips and how to make extra crispy roasted potatoes with goose fat. 

At one point while Cindy was at the kitchen sink a guy jumped over the back fence, walked along side the house and then climbed over the front gate.  I said something to Cindy about him, asking if she knew who he was and she said something about how it was probably Mike.  I thought to myself “That was definitely not Mike” but I let it go.  Then later I asked Mike if he knew who it was and they both laughed at me like I was joking.  I was absolutely not joking so Mike asked the neighbor and sure enough there was some vagabond jumping fences and hopping around gardens.  Weird.  

The kids played and played and Richard joined us for dinner.  It was a proper feast.  Mike cooked the chickens in a smoker during the afternoon, and there were Yorkshire puddings, roasted veg and stuffing.  

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the day or the evening. But it was the kind of day I want to remember forever.  And since I don’t have a proper journal, this is the place where I write about things I want to remember forever.  

Monday was a bank holiday here so Richard and the kids had the day off.  I had about five places I wanted to go for the day but finally narrowed it down to the town of Colchester.  It is the first recorded town in England, settled by the Romans around 45AD.  

At breakfast the kids asked where we were going and I told them I’d picked Colchester and Eli said 

“Colchester! I know that place.  It’s an old Roman city that was destroy by Boudica.  She also destroyed St. Albans and London and there is a statue of her riding in her chariot.”  

Well then.  (It turns out the statue is a statue we’ve seen several times, right outside the Westminster tube station.  Guaranteed you’ll see it if you visit London, I just had no idea who/what it was.) 

It took about an hour and a half to get there, but it was a beautiful drive.  All over the countryside we kept seeing these alarming yellow fields.  They were everywhere! They were flowers but I told Richard that they had to be some kind of profitable crop because they were so…everywhere.   It turns out they are rapeseed.  

We parked the car and walked down to Castle Park, which contains the Hollytrees Estate, a stretch of the original Roman wall, the Colchester Castle, and a massive playground.  We let the kids play on the playground for a bit and then we walked up toward the high street to check out our options and get some lunch.  

I had read online about a walking city tour that I really wanted to do, but we hadn’t brought the stroller and Richard knew Miriam and Simon would be bored and he would have to wrangle them while I listened to the tour guide.  We compromised and I signed Cameron and myself up for the tour and Richard agreed to take the other kids back to the playground.   

We ate lunch in The George Hotel, which was a fun and new English experience. I felt like we went back in time, but we would have been ridiculously under-dressed back in the heyday of the George Hotel.  

After lunch we had about an hour before the tour started so we walked over to the ruins of St. Botolph’s Priory.  It was the first and leading medieval Augustinian priory.  It was originally a Saxon church that was expanded and converted to a priory in approximately 1096. Then of course good ol’ Henry VIII demanded the dissolution of all things related to the Catholic church and it was mostly demolished in 1534.  What remained was further damaged during the Siege of Colchester in 1648, and this is all that remains.  (Henry VIII is already so easy to dislike, but the fact that he destroyed so much of the most beautiful architecture in the country makes him even more despicable.)

We walked back to Castle Park where we split off and Richard took the littles to the playground and Cameron and I embarked on our two hour walking tour.  He was a great sport, and really soaked up the history of it all.  I was a little surprised that Eli didn’t want to come, but sometimes a kid just gonna be a kid. 

The Colchester Castle was commissioned by William the Conqueror around 1069 and it was designed by a man called Gundulf.  It is the largest medieval castle in England, and the largest surviving castle keep in Europe.  Gundulf also designed the White Tower at the Tower of London, but it is smaller.  It was built on the ruins of the Roman Temple to Claudius.  We didn’t have enough time to make it worth the cost of taking a tour of the inside of the castle, but I kind of regret that and wish I had planned better.   

The walking tour covered over 2000 years of history that I will refrain from recounting here.  But I’ll mention a few interesting bits. 

Before the Romans came, Colchester was a Celtic village called Camulodunum, which some historians speculate was the basis for the fictitious Camelot, the capital of King Arthur’s court. 

The story of Boudica was so intriguing to me.  She has to be one of the most fascinating historical characters I’ve learned about since moving to London.   I have mixed feelings about her; she killed 80,000 people during her rampage.  But I also admire her.  I admire many women in history who demonstrated bravery in the face of male oppression.  She was denied everything that was rightfully hers when her husband died, and she and her daughters were beaten and sexually abused.  

Colchester was a massive, popular Roman city.  Even after Boudica’s rampage the city was rebuilt.  Three theatres have been uncovered, as well as the only Roman circus (chariot racing track) in Britain.  But once the Roman empire began to fall, all the Roman leadership left England and after the sixth century Colchester was more or less abandoned.  

The city was probably re-inhabited by Anglo-Saxons in the 800-900s, and then hit a new population boom when William the Conqueror set it apart as a military city.  

After we finished our tour Cameron and I met back up with the rest of the gang and we took a stroll along the River Colne on our way back to the car. 

I really can’t think of many of life’s menial tasks that don’t feel different in significant ways.  Except maybe cleaning the toilets.  Grocery shopping: so different.  Taking the kids to school: so different.  Driving a car: so different.  

Laundry: so tragically different. 

#firstworldproblems – for sure.  Let’s get that disclaimer out of the way. 

It’s taken months, but I’ve finally developed some laundry systems that increase my efficiency, but nonetheless it is the bane of my existence.  In the states I complained about how the laundry is never completely done, how empty hampers are rare or impossible, and it was true.  But here, it’s even worse.  In the states, I felt perpetually behind on a laundry in a way that was annoying.  Here, I perpetually feel so far behind on laundry that it’s downright depressing, and honestly I have cried over it.  Six people is TOO MANY for European laundering ways.  

I have a washing machine, which is on the smaller side of things but can manage an average size load.  It is also a dryer, but it isn’t the kind of dryer you find in the states.  It has no air circulation, there is no vent, just a wet steamy… tumble. The dryer will dry clothes; IF I run the cycle for over an hour, I open the door to let out the steamy air approx every 20 minutes, and the clothes are made of fine/thin/delicate fabrics.  So practically never.  I dry underwear and towells in the dryer and that’s it.  The other drawback to the dryer? If I’m drying clothes in the dryer, I’m drying clothes in the washing machine, which means I’m not washing any clothes.  

So I have a drying rack.  (I probably just need to invest in another drying rack because I simply can not live with clothes hanging over every piece of furniture in the house.) We also have a dehumidifier, which makes the clothes drying much faster, thank heavens.  When I do laundry it goes like this:  

Wash a load.  (Takes about 40 minutes if I do the fastest cycle.) 
“Dry” (tumble) the load for 20 minutes just so the clothes aren’t completely soaked. 
Hang the load on the clothes rack. 
Wash a load of underwear. 
Dry the load of underwear until they are dry. (This gives more time for the clothes on the drying rack to dry.)
Wash another load. 
Dry/tumble that load for 20 minutes.  
Remove the dry clothes from the rack, hang the wet clothes. 
Wash a load of underwear. 
And so on…

This is tedious.  Hanging clothes on the rack in a way that the won’t get too wrinkly is tedious.  Often times I’ll throw them back in the “dryer” for a few minutes so they don’t have that crusty/crunchy line-dry feeling.  This kind of laundry takes a three days to get all our clothes done, and it’s not like a “throw it in and forget about it until you have to change loads” kind of thing.  It usually takes three days because inevitably I forget that I’m supposed to be doing laundry for a few hours and it sets me back.  So by the time I’ve finished all the laundry the hampers are quickly filling up again.  Then you factor in other things that need washing like towells, sheets, coats, etc and let’s just say we have lowered our standards around here.  

The kids are allowed two sets of pajamas per week. (There are penalties, and I’m totally serious.)  I wear jeans more times between washes than I care to admit.  School uniform shirts are allowed one wear per wash (they are white), but trousers must be worn at least twice before a wash.  Socks and underwear can only be worn once but I’m not even gonna talk about how [in]frequently I wash the sheets.  (Wetting the bed is your best bet for getting your sheets washed around here.)  

Laundry stresses me, depresses me, and turns me into a crazy lady when I catch someone lazily throwing a clean article of clothing into a hamper.  I loathe laundry.  

What do I miss most (excluding people) about America?  My dryer.  Hands down.  

On Saturday morning I had plans to meet some friends for breakfast in the city.  Richard had told me that morning that the Duchess of Cambridge was officially in labor and admitted to the hospital, so when I finished up with my friends I decided to just go check out the atmosphere and get a taste for the royal baby mania.  By the time I got to St. Mary’s hospital I didn’t have too much time before I needed to get back on the tube and head home for a birthday party.  So I just walked up and down the street, taking photos, and soaking it all in. 

I had gotten the impression from news stories I read that there were dozens of people camped out for weeks, waiting for the big day.  But really, the campers were just a small group of die-hard anglophiles.  There were however, dozens of reporters.  The press crowd was massive.  Cameras everywhere, and from every direction I could see and hear live interviews being done, in so many different languages.  

When I had been there about 20 minutes, I wasn’t sure what was left to do.  It was fun to just watch people, and listen to the random chants of “Hip-hip Hooray” the die-hards were doing for the TV cameras.  Then the door opened to the Lindo Wing and the unofficial town crier came out, ringing his bell.  In an instant, everyone was gathered around him and it went silent while he read the decree.  

“Oh Ye! Oh Ye! Oh Ye!
On this day, the 2 of May, the year 2015 
We welcome with humble duty
the second born of their Royal Highnesses 
the Duke of Duchess of Cambridge. 
The princess is fourth in line to the throne. 
May our princess be long lived, happy, and glorious.” 

To be honest, I couldn’t really understand what he was saying.  He read it several times and the reporters went wild with their interviews and the crowd chanted “Princess! Princess!”  I stood there, totally surrounded by strangers and it just felt BIG. When I realized that he was announcing the birth of the baby, my heart started to race and I got really emotional.  I’m not sure how to account for such a visceral response.  I think it was in part due to the fact that I respect Prince William and Kate as a couple, and as individuals.  I think it also had to do with my own tender memories of giving birth, and somehow that made me feel connected to Kate, who in nearly all other circumstances I have nothing in common with.  But mostly I think it was just a feeling of pure joy and excitement that was coming from the hearts of all the people around me.  The British public seem to adore their royal family, and it was contagious.  

After the crowd dispersed I asked a woman standing nearby what the fancy man actually said, and we chatted for a minute about the excitement of it all, and how nice it is to enjoy some happy news for a bit.  

On my way out of the mania I just happened to come across Tony Appleton, the fancy man, doing an interview.  He was so elated and emotional himself, I found it completely endearing.  He talked about doing this for the birth of Prince George and how much it meant to him to have the honor.  

I am not a fan of celebrity worship or name-dropping.  I genuinely believe that the remarkable people in my life are just as valuable as the famous people that live in the public eye.  And to be fair, the announcement I saw came over two hours after the baby was actually born, and I wasn’t there when the family made their brief public appearance to the crowd. But I still felt like a small part of history that day and I can’t believe how lucky I was with my timing.  The whole experience had me smiling all day.  

God save the Queen! 

This week the weather has taken a turn back to cold, windy and rainy.  But for the two weeks prior, it was gorgeous.  In fact, I downloaded my first audio book during the warmest week of the year so far, and I found myself walking everywhere I possibly could.  I could write an entire post about my first Audible experience, and maybe I will.  But I found a new way to walk to Simon’s school to pick him up, and I would leave about 15 minutes early so I could sit in this charming park and listen to the book whilst watching the fountain and smelling the amazing aromas of all the flowers that bloom here.  They are mostly blossoming trees and bushes, and they are lovely.  Typically they say “April showers bring May flowers” but in London, I say “November, December, January, February and March showers bring April flowers.”  April in London has been completely wonderful.  People keep telling me that my face looks tan, which for once in my life actually worries me a bit, so I might need to start wearing a hat of some sort.  

During the warm spell one day I picked up Simon from school and we went into the city to Regent’s Park, mostly so I could see some tulips.  It is one of the Royal Parks of London, and I’ve decided that in another life I would like to be a gardener for the Royal Parks.  (In another life I would also like to work for a TV drama series and be the person who selects the music that plays in the poignant moments. Best. job. ever.) 

We walked through a lot of the park but of course still didn’t see half of it.  

From the park we walked up Camden high street toward the tube station and it was happening! I really wanted to take a photo of a man, probably in his 60’s, barefoot with dreads. writing inspirational thoughts on the pavement with sidewalk chalk.  He was probably homeless and I didn’t have any money to give him, and I always worry that people would feel objectified if I ask for a picture so I didn’t.  But he was a character. 

 I’ve gotten pretty good at finding my way around the city, and I’ve become pretty proficient about making transfers on public transport and finding the best way home, but in Camden I was in a new part of the city, a part I’d never been to and was totally unfamiliar with.  So after taking the underground one stop, I didn’t recognise the name of the station and I panicked.  I was sure I was lost and there is no cell service underground, so Simon and I trekked up to street level and I called Richard and asked him to go pick up the kids from school because I would never make it in time.  (The benefits of his short commute!)  It turns out I was right where I needed to be, I wasn’t lost at all, and Simon and I actually got home before Richard and the kids.  Oops.  

I remember at Cameron’s baptism feeling a little un-spiritual and a lot stressed.  I have a bad habit of “feeling other people’s feelings for them” so at any family gathering I quickly get preoccupied with making sure everyone has a place to sit, everyone is getting along, everyone feels welcome and noticed, etc.  I know that in a lot of ways my hypersensitivity to others is a gift, but I wish it didn’t often get in the way of my being mentally present at important events… 

Eli’s baptism was a different experience.  There were no family members there besides the six of us, so I was free of the pressures of being the hostess.  And yet I still found myself feeling more stressed than spiritual, because I had to play the piano and I’m really not good at the piano.  

In any case, once the piano part was over, I felt a profound sense of gratitude.  I’m grateful for Eli, for his good heart and his desire to be like Christ.  I’m grateful for the way his desire manifests itself in unselfish and thoughtful behaviors, and in his own gratitude for his blessings.  I’m grateful that he was brave despite being the star of the show.  And I’m grateful that he could share his baptism with Sariah, so he wasn’t the ONLY star of the show.  

I’m so grateful for our ward.  They showed. up.  And I don’t just mean that they were at the building at the appointed time.  I’m grateful for Jean Billy, who baked the amazing cakes.  I’m grateful for Sonya who spent most of the day at the chapel, because the font takes four hours (!) to fill, and I’m almost positive she was the last one to leave.  I’m grateful for Eli’s primary teachers and leaders who spoke and prayed.  I’m grateful for Georgia and her family for letting us be a part of Sariah’s special day.  I’m grateful for Bishop Chittock for his service and especially the love that emanates from that man. I’m grateful for my friend Keeley who made Eli a thoughtful gift.  I’m grateful for Jane who lovingly designed a program.  And I’m grateful for my other friends who couldn’t make it but sent texts of support.  I know there are others I will think of, and I will come back and add their names to this list.  

It was definitely hard to have this experience away from family, especially grandpas and great-grandpas who could have stood in on Eli’s confirmation.  But it gave me an opportunity to feel truly loved by our London family, and by my Father in Heaven, who surely knows me.  (Although, dear Father in Heaven, please send a pianist to our ward.) 

The Friday after we got back from the Netherlands Richard took a day off, since the kids were still out of school. So we planned a day trip down to Hastings.  Richard and I are both huge fans of Foyle’s War, which was filmed and based in Hastings, but we didn’t actually spend much time in the city itself.  

We walked down to the beach, and although it was reasonably warm, it was quite windy.  The kids skipped rocks into the waves and we just relaxed for a bit.  We’ve noticed that instead of calling it “the beach” most Brits refer to it as “the seaside.”  The seaside in Hastings wasn’t a sandy beach at all, it was these rocks, which were beautiful.  

We ate lunch at an Italian place, where the pizzas were twice as big as we expected and half the price, and Simon’s spaghetti was tastier than my gnocchi. (And my gnocchi was good!)  We practically had the restaurant to ourselves and the kids meals came with some really yummy gelato.  After lunch we drove up to the Hastings Battlefield and Abbey, which was the location for the Battle of Hastings 1066, and where Battle Abbey was built by William the Conqueror as restitution to God for the many lives lost in the battle.  

The first half of the audio guide tour was a walking tour that went around the perimeter of the battlefield.  It talked you through the day’s events, the strategies and successes and failures of the Normans (present-day French) and the Anglo-Saxons, (present day English.)  The tour also talked about the personalities and shortcomings of each of the army’s leaders. 

The Battle took place in October of 1066, and it was a war between King Harold (Anglo-Saxon) and the Duke William II of Normandy.  For various reasons, they both believed they were entitled to the English throne after the death of King Edward the Confessor.   

The battle only lasted one day, and Duke William II came off conqueror.  He then went on to take over the rest of the country and gain the crown for himself, significantly changing the course of English history.  

The second half of the audio tour was all about the Monastic Abbey built at the battle site.  The abbey was built between 1070-1094, after the Pope ordered the Normans to make penance for killing so many men during the battle. The Abbey was huge, one of the biggest in the country during the time period, the dormitory was said to house 180 monks.  It was a center for learning, worship and development.  

The abbey was destroyed when King Henry VIII parted ways with the Catholic church and ordered its dissolution. The abbey later became a private residence for several hundred years.  The surviving buildings are now a school, and the ruins are open to the public.  

There was a lot more to see than what I’ve posted here.  There was a museum, and we were able to climb to the top of the turrets and look out over the estate.  There was an impressive walled garden that had been built and cultivated for the lady of the house in the 1700s.  There were foundation stones from the ruins of the church, and other parts of the abbey including the cloisters, the chapter house, the abbots house and the refectory.  

It was a really neat place to visit and made me excited to visit other abbey ruins.  It reminds me of a quote I read in a book recently.  Experiencing the world through history is such a gift! 

“A feeling of immediate contact with the past is a sensation as deep as the purest enjoyment of art. It is an almost ecstatic sensation of no longer being myself, of overflowing into the world around me, of touching the essence of things, of through history experiencing the truth. The historic sensation is not the sensation of living the past again but of understanding the world [perhaps] as one does when listening to music…”
-Johan Huizinga