Another exciting month here in Blighty. From the Queen's Jubilee celebration, through the heartbreak of the World Cup, and ending with lawn drama at Wimbleton we Yanks have felt swept up. Along the way we captured a bit more heritage. It comes in many forms: an anecdote, a phrase remembered, or a drive to a local treasure.

 Ickworth House (left) is such an example. Lying on the outskirts of Bury sits the estate built between the 18th and 19th centuries by the Earl of Bristol and his heirs; a family so unscrupulous even Voltaire found reason to mentioned them! We went to see the Annual Wool Fair held on the manor's grounds. Hundreds of bleating sheep were sheared of their coats while in nearby tents ladies hand-spun their wool into thread and yarn.

Elena and Chris tried their hand a lacemaking (right), a craft that must be seen to be appreciated. I wonder if all our conveniences have removed something vital in the process. When was the last time any of us attempted a handmade gift?

 The Jubilee was the nearest celebration I've found akin to our 4th, and our neighbor Alan thought it a good occasion for revelry amongst the good folk of our street. So out with the sausages, salads and beers. Even though the day was gray, we cheerily raised our glasses to the Queen (and former Colonies!), played a few games, and had a laugh. It was the first fun we'd had in months. It felt like home.

 

 Lego™Land is about as close as any Brit can get to a major theme park, but after our monster DisneyWorld trip last August it was just the right size. No really great rides for the hard-core thrill fan, but we found some nice things in the gift shops and I was able to get the new LegoRacers2 computer game for a ridiculously low price. More amazing was Miniature Europe, built with hundreds of thousands of Lego™ blocks. Our neighbors who'd went said it was 'dear' (expensive), and it was. A nice-to-see, close to London.

 Windsor Castle is a must-see, and all the world obliges. Though the Queen was there and our tour was truncated to a stroll around the grounds, still those great gray walls form one of the bastions of English history. Queen Victoria's statue commands the entrance, the dour turn of her lips well tells the tourist what she thinks of the Lower Orders. The town of Windsor oddly contrasts the formidable castle which began under the Normans. It is a cheery hamlet that spills across the Thames stuffed with pubs and book shops. Worth another visit.

 Oliver the Traction Engine capped off Joyce and Jesse's visit. We found him at a Heritage farm, working up a head of steam. "We'll be taking him out for a ride soon," said his driver. "Meet us at the Rose and Crown at 1:00." Well, with a top speed of 4 mph and some distance to travel, we didn't think we'd meet again. But as we left the pub after lunch what should we see but Oliver & Co. trundling down the road and pulling up exactly on time. Not bad for a one hundred year old piece of coal-fired farm equipment!

 Sadly, I have to report that we must move from our home. Owing to a booming housing market, a six-month lease, and his desire to settle a divorce our landlord has decide to put the house up for sale. It's a shame. I cannot describe the relief we all felt when we pulled up to this house after giving up our home and friends in America. It made all the effort worthwhile, an omen of better days ahead, and a nice step up from where we came.

The thought of packing up again after six short months does not sit well with any of us. We feel betrayed, but we will "get on with it" and find a new place in the area. We have decided that Bury is a good place for us to be for many reasons ... there's a feel to it that we like, so we'll keep our fingers crossed.

 My parents are visiting us now, and we have a busy itinerary planned. Lots of pictures are coming, so be sure to stop by next month. Maybe we'll have a new place, too! Cheers!

 The month rounded out with the arrival of our first set of summer guests. Jesse and Joyce flew in for a two-week look at Blighty, spending one weekend with us. Our neighbor Peter suggested a trip to Newmarket to bet on some ponies. It was something new; I've never put money on a horse and, after the last race was run, decided I should continue to do so.

 My downfall was an Irish pony named Tupelo Prince ... the darkest horse in the field with 33-1 odds, and the perfect bet for a sucker like me. The crickets were chirping when he finally crossed the line, but no matter. The roaring crowd and the pounding hooves were worth a few quid and the memories. It is still the sport of kings, and of those who fancy to be one for a while.

  It's been five months now since we landed in Bury, and it's become as familiar to us as Dover. What is less familiar is the amount of day light we enjoy this time of the year. True, the sun flies longer in the summer, but living even farther north makes for some oddly long days. When we first moved in (just at winter's end) I wondered at the room darkening curtains. Now I know why. The suns stays up long past nine at night, and the sky stays light well after ten. Since I have seasonal mood changes, the extra daylight gives me a boost of energy. But I am wary of the dreary winter months and sunsets starting at four in the afternoon ...