Sisterchicks Go Brit! (27 page)

A bit of silliness with the Blessed Chicks

Our most cozy teatime was in Olney at a quaint shop called Teapots. My editor, Julee, my British writer friend Marion Stroud, and I bent our heads close in calming conversation and did a little dreaming together. A lovely way to hush a busy day.

Teapots in Olney. Inside you’ll find a darling collection of old hats hung on the wall in the stairwell.

While in London, Julee, Marion, and I then connected with Veronica Heley and Penny Culliford, two British novelists, and indulged in a very posh high tea at the Ritz. Pinkies up!

Tea at the Ritz, from left to right: Robin, Penny, Marion, Julee, and Veronica

Our tour of Oxford was almost as wild and wacky as the account I fictionalized in the book. We loved the bookstores, the many chapels such as Exeter, and views of all the “dreaming spires.” A highlight in this fabulous city was visiting Holy Trinity Church near the Kilns and sitting in the pew where C. S. Lewis sat every Sunday for decades. I loved trying to see what he saw and imagine what he imagined. And, yes, Tolkien’s home did have lawn gnomes in the yard.

When we entered the chapel at Exeter, the Bible was open to Jeremiah and a student was practicing the organ in the balcony.
It was one of those moments when it felt as if the majesty of God was seeping through invisible walls and shining on us.

Yes, that’s Ben in the background. Isn’t he handsome?

I love so many of the typical tourist sights in London that it was challenging to limit what was included in Kellie and Liz’s adventure. Portobello Road is always at the top of my list along with Westminster Abbey and, of course, a long walk across Westminster Bridge at sunset to see Big Ben. Just like Liz, I think I’ve always had a little crush on Ben. His face lit up at twilight is unforgettable.

Julee and I met Christelle on the way to Windsor in the same way that Kellie and Liz met Annette. The three of us chummed around the castle and shared a few giggles over tea and scones. Blessedly, Christelle’s English far surpassed our French, and we were reminded once again that Sisterchicks are everywhere. Sometimes all it takes is a kind “hello” to start a friendship. Christelle and I still correspond. Not by e-mail. No. This woman who is young enough to be my daughter writes to me on fancy stationery with carefully penned sentences, and I respond in kind. This lingering souvenir of our day at the castle makes our small, across-the-ocean friendship that much more endearing.

On the castle grounds with Christelle at Windsor

I was trying to come up with a Beefeater expression to match the one on my wooden friend. How did I do?

My Sisterchick Julee had a kinder, gentler approach to making friends with the Beefeater.