Our first two days in the Kloof, it rained. This was new. Last time, the weather varied from hot to “OMG MY FACE IS MELTING LIKE THAT NAZI FROM RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC” hot.

Now it was colder than it had been in London the week before, which isn’t really saying much, because London was weirdly warm. I don’t really know if that has to do with global warming or something to do with the monarchy (I don’t really understand how either work, to be honest). But the Kloof was, on those first two days, downright chilly. We went out anyway.



By popular demand, here are a few more scenes from St. Albans. (Tomorrow we’ll talk about South Africa and the Kloof some more. And then I’ll go back even further, to our Australia trip, and then … I have a lot to cover, folks. A lot. This blog NEVER ENDS. It is forever unfinished. It both haunts my dreams and is the reason I wake up in the morning (along with cake).

Cake in Spittlefields.

But I digress.)


St. Albans is incredibly charming, and it’s a very short train ride from London, and there are plenty of other reasons to visit. All of them, however, are being crowded out of my memory because during our visit we ate at a place called The Cock Inn, and I find that to be utterly hilarious.

I wish to make many jokes. Though they are, essentially, all the same joke.


I am fairly sure that half of all the establishments in the country are named by a bunch of American middle schoolers who can’t stop laughing at how silly those words sound when someone has a posh English accent.


I’d seen London so many times before. But I don’t think it’s ever been as lovely as it was at the end of October.


I’ve heard it said that living in Seattle is like being married to a beautiful woman who’s sick all the time. And while that’s clever, it’s a little chauvinistic, isn’t it? So while I could use the same analogy to describe London, I’ve tweaked it a bit.