In a Good Place

There's our Henry Sext, contemplative in York Minster, next to his father, who ruled with the sword. He has the look of melancholy, and is the last in the line of sculpted kings here.

The UK trip, my first overseas trip in nearly twenty years, was a mixture of glorious sightseeing and personal discomfort, as I contracted pneumonia, probably on the plane ride over, and never fully recovered. That said, my mother and I did not hesitate to tramp around York, a city with a vivid center core. She picked up my ailment in the second week, making travel home challenging. The grounding of everything due to the effects of the ash of the Icelandic volcano ended the day before we were set to fly - and we were able to get home with hopes that we did not cause much trouble.

My book buying sickness was rampant, as I had to buy a piece of carryon luggage to deal with its results. Hopefully, they will fuel this blog. Now to get beyond the travel letdown and go back to my career as a tax collector in this New York city. Much to digest and learn - and grateful for the time away.