A slow morning spent writing and trying to make sense of everything. These long, indulgent days drag at our heels, slowing everything down to a Southern rhythm. An almost empty bus takes us out of town to Belle Meade Plantation. It’s the first time I’ve walked on grass in a week. Marietta, with her hoopContinue reading “Day Eight: Belle Meade”
Tag Archives: hostel
Day One: Chicago
We wake at 6am to a bedroom of bleary morning light. The District Line rumbles past my window; the radio alarm shrieks into action. Up, dressed, on the tube to Heathrow. It’s Hattie and I and the promise of an adventure, just beyond Gate 29. Plane food is worse than I remember (although IContinue reading “Day One: Chicago”
To The Table 