From an English road specifically–I’m visiting my aged father in Reading. Reading’s claim to fame is that Oscar Wilde went to goal (English for jail) here, and Jane Austen attended the Abbey School; the school building still stands, after falling down completely in the 19th century and being rebuilt. It also boasts the interestingly-named St. Mary’s Butts church–named for the archery practice area, but now giving rise to such hilarities as Butts Dry Cleaning. Ah, simple pleasures.

I visited Bath yesterday and I think I’m sort of Bathed-out, having been there so often, but today I went to Bristol, which is now my favorite place in the whole world. Go to Bristol. It has terrific free museums, some stupendous Georgian architecture (sorry, folks, I missed Queens Square), and some lovely churches. You can also take a ferry around the docks to travel around the city which on a day like today, warm and sunny, was wonderful.

Next week, a jet-lagged report upon Erddig, a National Trust property where they never threw anything away and painted pictures and wrote poems about the servants. Excellent.

Riskily yours,