There and Back Again

So I’m back…

Like Lizzy, I didn’t have enough time to reach the Lake District, nor did
I make it to the Hogwarts train station or the Dracula-inspiring park
bench. I did visit Haworth, former home and perpetual shrine to the
Brontë sisters. I saw cathedrals everywhere I went, but there was more
of a feeling of reverence in one room of the Brontë parsonage than in the
York Minster. I’ve seen (alleged) bits of the True Cross treated with less respect
than the Original Furniture. There is something supernatural about the
Brontës, I suppose.

People don’t build cathedrals anymore, but they still write novels. As I was
writing in the rain at Vindolanda for the Hadrian’s Wall bus, I passed the time by
reading Rob Roy. Most of it was good, but it had that sudden,
unexplained and unforeshadowed ending problem that I’d thought was unique to
sci-fi. Several major plot points were knocked off in the course of a few pages,
and not in a believable way. I guess if you’re Scott, you can get away with
all sorts of things.

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