[Standing in the English rain, waiting for the sun. The author standing near the entrance of the Natural History Museum, London. Photo taken by Mariam Voutsis.]

The scientific theory I like best is that the rings of Saturn are composed entirely of lost airline luggage.

~~Mark Russel

Slainte, Ireland.

Allow me, gentle reader, to add a gentle coda to our gentle trip to Ireland. When last sat together, I was mid-way through our stay in Dublin. There is way too much to say, too many fabulous places in that city to attend to here. It’s the City of Joyce, James Joyce, author of the incomparable novel, Ulysses. I can honestly say that I read the entire book, decades ago. Cover to cover. I thought it was a great read. However, after one hour spent browsing through the rooms of the James Joyce Center just a few blocks from our hotel, it dawned on me that, I may have read the book, I did not really read it. I missed so much in my haste to complete it, that now, I’m determined to read it again. This time with a guidebook beside me, on my night stand, to help me fully grasp the references and subtleties of the text.

[In the courtyard of the James Joyce Center is the door to No. 7 Eccles Street. Described in the novel, Ulysses. One of the places visited by Leopold Bloom on June 6, 1904. Photo is mine.]

After a final evening at Murray’s Pub for dinner and a chance to sing along to “Molly Malone” (The Tart with The Cart) we packed up my new book purchases, several Celtic tee shirts, and a 2026 Irish calendar. My insomnia kept me awake until three hours before the alarm went off. Then, off to Dublin Airport for a, hopefully, uneventful flight to Heathrow. I nearly screamed with joy when the Captain announced that the flight would be “just under an hour”. That’s about my flying time limit. The middle of the trip was smooth and sweet. It was those long seconds just after takeoff and just before landing when the turbulence was bad enough for me to think I was going to have a stroke, two strokes. Oddly, everyone else sat calmly and read or snoozed. Was it just me?

London

No need to go into any detail about the long walk to the baggage claim. We were told the No. 6 was where our luggage would come out. So we waited.

An hour later, we were still waiting. Nearly everyone was gone. The conveyor was empty except for a tattered old Samsonite, and a faded backpack. Neither of which was ours. Mariam pulled our her iPhone and checked the tracker tags we had put into two of the three pieces of checked items. (The third piece was my rolling backpack which the check-in clerk suggest we check. This was a split-second decision on my part. There was no ID tag, no tracker tag…but it contained my laptop charge cable and all of my writing material for my next book. All my ghost stories, flash drive…all of my important stuff.) Mariam announced that the tag indicated that our three bags were still in Dublin.

Cutting to the end, we had to buy two very large Tee shirts with the Union Jack on the front for our sleeping shirts. The hotel provided the tiniest tube of tooth paste known to mankind and a brush with twenty-seven bristles. Small things, but lifesaving to us.

Now you know, my forgiving readers, why I have not posted any blogs in at least ten days. Trust me, I would never abandon you.

We did try to put a stiff upper lip on our situation by getting out and taking in some sights that we somehow have never seemed to accomplish when we were here. One such place was the Natural History Museum. Now, I must add a comment here. I am a retired science teacher who has shown far more than his share of dinosaur videos and conducted rock and mineral labs for thousands of students over my career. So, dinosaurs, while fascinating in a way, aren’t my main interest. No bus-man’s holiday here. I was more interested in the jaw-dropping architecture of the museum.

[Inside the Natural History Museum, London. Photo is mine.]

[Something was scaling the column next to me. Photo is mine.]

I love children, trust me. But, 20,000 of them in one building is a bit too much for this aged person. The noise level was like attending a Who concert in 1973, or standing next to a Boeing 737 just before take-off. Too many dB’s!

Since we were in the neighborhood, we thought we’d take in the Victoria & Albert Museum. It held an impressive collection of textiles, fabrics with attention to various colors. I’m always looking for a better name for a common color.

The hallways were filled with classical sculpture. Here are just two:

[Eurydice. Photo is mine.]

[Eve Listening to Voice of Adam. Sculpture by Edward Hodges Baily (1788-1867). Photo is mine.]

And, so on. We returned to the hotel (The Grand/CQ on Northumberland Ave) in time to chill and then seek out a proper Steak & Ale Pie. This we found at a very old (and haunted) pub on Westminster. I managed to squeeze in a nap after the museums but as the hour of midnight approached, I somehow found myself totally exhausted. I don’t understand it. Only a month ago, in Ireland, I was able to make it until nearly 1 AM. Am I getting old?

This morning, 2 September, I slept until late morning. Mariam had received a text indicating that our luggage was in London but the deliveries (of all the ‘lost baggage’, and I understand that we weren’t the only ones whose bags were left on the tarmac in Dublin) would not begin until 2 PM. Whoa. Another day without our stuff? But, then the hotel phone rang. I picked it up.

“Mr. Egan, your luggage is here and is heading to your room right now.”

[It’s really our stuff. Photo is mine.]

And here I am. Filling you in on how our recent days have played out.

We’re in London and were ready to do this town…

[Photo is mine.]