My sister and I spent nine years of our childhood on a voyage around the world by land and sea.

This statement is true, though we didn’t notice it until our father pointed it out to us. The first leg of the journey, in 1956, was on a passenger ship crossing the Atlantic from England to the USA, when our father was returning from a sabbatical at Cambridge. (In America we paused to spend eight years as kids growing up in a suburb.) The rest of the journey unfolded in 1964-65 during his next sabbatical. First we drove across the USA and took a freighter to Australia. Seven months later we sailed to Athens by passenger ship. Trains and a rental car got us to Holland, and finally, a ferry to England completed our circumnavigation.  (Shortly thereafter we flew to Boston and commenced the remainder of our lives.)

A nine-year voyage around the world!  I am Marco Polo, I am Magellan!

[6 December 2014]

Kate and I and her parents attended midnight service last night in Iffley’s beautiful Norman church, St. Mary’s, and I learned a fine point of Anglicanism in the early 21st century. It seems that  communicants who prefer gluten-free wafers may mention this to the vicar, who will accommodate them accordingly. Note how neatly this option reflects the fact that the Eucharist is merely symbolic. If the wafer actually turned into a piece of the body of Christ, gluten wouldn’t be an issue.

[25 December 2014]