What a Difference a Year Makes

One year ago Carter and I came to London during the coldest spell they had experienced in years. Even though it snowed and blowed freezing winds our whole week Carter fell madly deeply in love with the city. Being an Anglophile could be genetic. My parents love all things Britannia and figured a way not just once but twice to move here for work in 1979 and again in 1994.

Although I only spent summer and Christmas vacations with my family the first time they lived here since I was in college I too lived here with Russ for five years in the nineties. The only reason we left was that I was pregnant with Carter and retired from working. I guess you could say that Carter’s spent her first five months in the UK even if they were gestational.

Knowing that we only have a couple of spring breaks left before Carter leaves for college and wild breaks with her friends I wanted to make the most of this vacation. When we talked about all the possibilities there was one obvious trip we should take, come back to London and add Paris on to the end, but rather than Carter and I coming alone we had to get Russ to come with us.

So here we are, the three of us in our favorite city. The weather is decidedly un-British, hitting fifty-five. If this luck holds out all week I can only imagine how much more Carter is going to be in love with London. It is going to be interesting to see how Paris compares, they don’t have the same boy bands doing their bidding, but then again the French really don’t care if we love them or not.