Day: the last

No painting, no art, just a day enjoying the city, eating at cafes, shopping for chocolates and biscuits to bring home, and a stop into the kiltmaker’s. Mike has been wearing a hand-me-down kilt given to him by one of the old RSCDS instructors, and has always wanted to get one made just for him, but they’re as expensive as any hand-stitched men’s suit. Well, if not now, then when? He went through books of weaver samples with the tailor, chose the ancient hunting colors for his clan (each clan has several tartans; ancient, hunting, modern, and weathered, and they vary subtly from weaver to weaver with their dyes and size of the pattern), and in 7 weeks it’ll be finished and shipped home. He was so excited, it was nice to see.

Clan MacIntosh

Trying on sample kilts to see how the fabric swings in different weights

In the evening we packed our suitcases and went to Blackfriars for dinner and a last pint. A mob of young musicians bunched in with fiddles, guitars, a banjo, bodhran, and an accordion, and the pub kicked off. What is this feeling? Happy?

This morning we are eating the last of the frozen croissants and heading to the airport. Back to Heathrow, back to the Pacific Northwest LAX (I didn’t read my itinerary), back to the islands. I am going to absorb all the moisture in the air and plump like a sponge. It’ll be a Last Crusade in reverse.

Ready to be home with my kids, my cats, and my own bed. This wasn’t a romantic trip, and I’m not sure yet if it was a shot in the arm for our relationship, but it was what I needed - art, hiking, time alone to just be me. I feel like I’ve finally eaten a meal after living on instant noodles for a long time. 

Fingers crossed my next update is from home and not from a detention center in British Columbia or something. I have decided to take it as a sign it’s time to leave if, you know, I’m chucked out of the country. Just roll with it.