Our morning comes early; a sunny and crisp 6:00 am. Our last two nights have been difficult: restless and sleepless for the both of us. We toss and turn all night, waiting for sleep to grab hold and take us away. Robin is off to work at 7:00 am. John B packs the boys and John and I into the car around 7:30 to be dropped at school and Heathrow respectively. The M25 is bumper to bumper the entire way and we arrive according to predictions around 9:15 for our flight to Ch. De Gaulle. We say our goodbyes in the diesel smelling air of the drop off lanes and jump on our very easy, 1 hour flight to Paris. The baggage Gods continue to smile on us-we are again number 3 and 4 off the belt and glide through the arrivals gate where Francois is waiting to wisk us into Paris.
The Parisian weather is verging on non-descript: grey, flat nothingness, an occasional turbulent French cloud dropping the occasional drop of French rain.

The crazy Parisian traffic pulls us into town and to our over-night Hotel, the Ibis, another followsummer 2004 remembrance. A no-frills familiar place to sleep for this one evening and then again for one night upon our return to the city. We are going to John and Francois’ for dinner tonight and are only a 10 minute walk to their apartment in the 18th near Place Stalingrad on the Quai de la Seine. It is just after 2 pm, we drop our bags and wander into the streets for a late lunch of omelettes, croque mousiers and salade verte, eyeing the busy traffic of Paris and its familiar welcome.

The off and on rain continues in earnest after our naps so we grab our umbrellas and walk over to meet Francois. John is working late this last day before their vacation and we spend an hour walking along the canal, our umbrellas perched high, the blinking, wet lights of Paris beginning to reflect on the ancient and wet cobbles.

Tomorrow we head nord-ouest; first to Amiens and it’s famous Cathedral and then on to Ste. Cortoy and the Hotel Les Tournelles in the heart of Normandy and La Baie de la Somme for three days of touring, walking and of course, eating.

The day dawns somewhat cloudy yet promising: the misty back yard holds the fog and haze in its all enveloping green. The gardeners have come and primped and manicured the lawns and foliage for the guests. All we can hope is that the sun will arrive and give us a Thanksgiving day to be thankful for.

I begin my prep at 9:00 am. Dinner is now for 12 guests and re-affirms what Thanksgiving is for: friends, family, and those who need some extra attention. We have decided on a fairly traditional dinner: Roasted root vegetables, mashed potatoes with garlic and leeks, broccoli with fresh bread crumbs of orange and garlic, stuffing and gravy. A tart tartin will be our dessert.

Everything seems to be moving along very well until I literally try to force the stuffed and trussed turkey into Robin’s oven at 12 pm. The ‘Pope’s Nose” is forced against the side of the oven and the metal roasting pan that the humongous bird sits in, twists and buckles under the weight and size. The tail and breast begin to brown immediately. There is a distinct burning smell arising from the over. “Oh no” I think…I have never cooked a bird this big before and I still had to pluck some of the remaining pin feathers from the legs and the breast. I have allowed ample time (I think) to cook the bird—4.5 hours and I am cautiously optimistic that this will all work out.

Our friend Neil is joining us from London for dinner and he is the first to arrive after 3:30 pm. Gradually, Micheala, Fred, their sons and Dylan’s friend Adam arrive and we share some Champagne and lovely antipasto including some cheeses, salamis and olives that John M. has picked out, all gathered on John B and Robin’s now late afternoon, sun-drenched back terrace in the Surrey country side. The locals welcome the bit of warmth and sunshine so unusual for this time of year.

Dinner is a success, many oohs and ahhs over the BIRD and the ease and grace of the dinner and the BIRD’s hosts. We drop Neal at the station for his train back to the city; Micheala and Fred head home and we finish the clean up and head to bed—6 am start tomorrow as the Geller/Baker family head to school and work and we catch our flight to Paris….

I awake an hour before landing and John has already had breakfast and is ensconced in Deepa Mehta’s movie ‘Water’. I have not slept very well and this will be an omen for much of the first week of our trip. John too, has had a toss and turn evening of restless, furtive sleep.

Heathrow is busy this morning as usual; both eastern and western bound flights touching down at roughly the same time on these over-used tarmacs. We breeze through our de-plane and our bags are second and third off the carousel. We hustle past the sleep deprived and hung-over passengers, smiling broadly and somewhat maliciously, to meet Robin and the 40 minute drive to Pedlars, her home in East Surrey. The dull thump of our jet lagged heads a reminder of our Trans-Atlantic crossing and our baggage-claiming smiles.

We catch up on our collectively crazy lives, have some toast and coffee with Dylan, Robin’s eldest son, and await the return of Stephen and John B from Stephen’s early morning ice hockey game.

I stop fighting the lag in my body and head around 11:00 and climb the stairs at Pedlars for a lovely nap until after 1 pm, at which time I am woken by Stephen’s muscular and capricious attempts at his drum practice from the third floor. John M and Robin have headed out for a walk and both Stephen and John B have assumed that the house is empty of guests and family.

A Thanksgiving shopping list is assembled for our final preparations for tomorrow’s dinner for 11 ex-pats and Englanders all and the three of us head into Banstead to snoop the stores and pick up the turkey that Robin has pre-ordered for our feast. Upon advice, she has ordered a 21 lb turkey and the friendly, robust butcher brings out a 29 lb monster BIRD – “this was all I could get!!” He dangles the bird by its enormous legs in front of us, its huge breast blocking his jolly and forgiveness-seeking face. We agree to the size (what choice do we have?), he trusses the bird for us and wraps it in a huge green garbage bag for us to parade down Banstead High Street, back to the car. We finish our shopping and circle back to Pedlars and begin prep for our feast tomorrow evening.

4:00 pm arrives and I cannot keep my head up. The dull, throbbing, jeg-lagging hangover continues in my head teamed with queasiness and a general sense of malaise. Both John M and I head for nap number 2 while Stephen and his dad leave for their second ice hockey game of the day.

Robin, Dylan, John M and I head into Kingswood, 5 minutes away and all of 15 buildings, for an early dinner of Indian food (quite good, actually!). I return to bed at 8:30 – huge day tomorrow.

Our morning comes early; a sunny and crisp 6:00 am. Our last two nights have been difficult: restless and sleepless for the both of us. We toss and turn all night, waiting for sleep to grab hold and take us away. Robin is off to work at 7:00 am. John B packs the boys and John and I into the car around 7:30 to be dropped at school and Heathrow respectively. The M25 is bumper to bumper the entire way and we arrive according to predictions around 9:15 for our flight to Ch. De Gaulle. We say our good byes in the diesel smelling air of the drop off lanes and jump on our very easy, 1 hour flight to Paris. The baggage Gods continue to smile on us-we are again number 3 and 4 off the belt and glide through the arrivals gate where Francois is waiting to wisk us into Paris.
The Parisian weather is verging on nondescript: grey, flat nothingness, an occasional turbulent French cloud dropping the occasional drop of French rain.

The crazy Parisian traffic pulls us into town and to our over-night Hotel, the Ibis, another followsummer 2004 remembrance. A no-frills familiar place to sleep for this one evening and then again for one night upon our return to the city. We are going to John and Francois’ for dinner tonight and are only a 10 minute walk to their apartment in the 18th near Place Stalingrad on the Quai de la Seine. It is just after 2 pm, we drop our bags and wander into the streets for a late lunch of omelettes, croque mousiers and salade verte, eyeing the busy traffic of Paris and its familiar welcome.

The off and on rain continues in earnest after our naps so we grab our umbrellas and walk over to meet Francois. John is working late this last day before their vacation and we spend an hour walking along the canal, our umbrellas perched high, the blinking, wet lights of Paris beginning to reflect on the ancient and wet cobbles.

Tomorrow we head nord-ouest; first to Amiens and it’s famous Cathedral and then on to Ste. Cortoy and the Hotel Les Tournelles in the heart of Normandy and La Baie de la Somme for three days of touring, walking and of course, eating.

Easy traffic: Katie Spencley is running 10 minutes late to pick us up for our ride to the airport. It is a lovely sun-drenched late afternoon ride across the Gardiner and up the 427 to our flight to London. John has had a hectic day at work; I have eased into the final pack and clean up before we head east. We have said our good-byes to the kitties: Sydney looking the most forlorn; and also to Katie, who looks the least forlorn. We excitedly check in for the beginning of our adventure only to discover that the equipment has not arrived yet for our overnight flight to London and we will be delayed by about 40 minutes. Once aboard, our overly-friendly pilot tells us that “due to favorable tail winds” we will arrive on-time at Heathrow the next morning.

Easy flight: John chooses the “little blue pill and sleep” option while I decide to eat. I am famished. Cote de Boeuf and a salad, and because, we are heading to France, of course I take the cheese course. John is happily snoring while I quaff down my second glass of red wine, reading a very funny David Sedaris article in the New Yorker entitled ‘D’accord’. Just after 11 pm Toronto time I conk out. 4 am London time! I had already downed my little blue pill and finally settle into the comfy business class seats that, thanks to the many air miles racked up from followsummer 2004, make for a comfortable and easy flight over.

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