If you had the chance to transform into a laminated paper figure that could go anywhere (almost) you wanted, would you do it?

 Bear in mind you'd spend most of your time affixed by a kitchen magnet to the refrigerator door, and your dimension-less bum would spend most of its time in a semi-frozen state. There'd be no Christmas presents or birthday cards, and the nights might get quite lonely. Still, if you had the chance to pick up and go just to say you'd done it, would you do it?

 Two years ago, our little family assented (in principle) to this innocent question. The result was all you've seen and more. Now we must decide whether to end our journey this coming July or hold on tight a while more. It's ironic that our good fortune was born out of such misfortune. 2001 was indelibly etched; a year of lost lives, lost jobs, and lost confidence. Yet from all that desperation, this remarkable gift. Whatever our decision will be, know we have been blessed these past two years.

 But who is this chap? Meet Flat Stanley -- our cheerful and stalwart companion who has traveled with us from Yorkshire to Wales, and to all parts of Suffolk. Presented to us last year, Stanley is the property of Phyllis Taub, a teacher at School Sixteen in Elizabeth, NJ, and Patti's good friend. Through Stanley, Phyllis has traveled vicariously to all kinds of places. Right now Stanley is in England, but a future traveler will smuggle Stanley to some new exotic place. That's quite easy, considering Stanley's current dimensions.

 We were fortunate to have Jesse and Patti visit us for the week of Thanksgiving. England is no place to travel to after October. The sky turns heavy, the light fails early, and the fog rolls in from the coast with a chill. Usually. This year the weather was beautiful for Elena's seventh birthday party, and stayed fine right up until their visit when a gale blew in from the Irish Sea and drenched England from Brighton to Boston. Well, no use whinging. Make the best! So for several days we stayed cozy to home, then drove up to the ruins of Castle Acre Priory at the end of the week for some sun and a bit of a 'sight-see'.

 England desperately needs some kind of Autumn holiday besides Guy Fawkes Day, if only to put the shops off Christmas decorating until after Halloween. Talk on the radio mentions with a twinge of jealousy our 'American' holiday of Thanks-giving. Canada celebrates a similar day in October. If a member of the old Commonwealth can have one, why not the Mother Country? Believe me, the Brits are having enough trouble adjusting to Halloween. Don't hold your breath!

 One of the benefits of living in the English countryside is a rather extensive network of public foot paths. With a map in hand and a stout pair of Wellies (boots) a person can get quite close to nature and the local agriculture. So, these past months, I've donned my tweed cap and made like the country squire. Sometimes Chris tags along and we swap raucous jokes about the piles of cow shite we assiduously try to avoid.

 About a mile through the pathwork lies the manor house of Nether Hall. Looking in all respects like something taken from 'Dark Shadows' or the mind of A.C. Doyle, I fantasize about its possibly nefarious history each time I pass. After all, Suffolk lore bulges with strange places and queer events. I pause a while for conjecture, but not too long. It's best not to get caught far from your hearth when the mists start creeping through the furrows.

 Now begins the busy Yuletide full of Christmas plays, dance recitals, shopping, and decorating. We have no travel plans this holiday, though Judy will venture to Bruges and Holland with her coworkers this weekend for some shopping and picture-snapping. I am busy finishing an on-line computer course ... a six week introductory on XHTML ... plus home schooling and Boy Scouts with Chris, and the usually pre-Christmas antics. Please keep those letters coming! It's always great to hear from you. We'll have more news for you some time soon!