Bill Bryson has a humorous outlook on life. Much like David Sedaris, I have enjoyed his work especially by audiobook, a friend telling you a good tale from their latest adventure. But when I saw Bryson’s Notes From A Small Island for a dollar at the thrift shop, I decided it was time to read Bryson on the page. After all, I’m headed to London this year for the first time in about twenty years, same as Bryson in this book, who is revisiting his first time on the British Isles in 1973 twenty years after the book’s “present-day” of 1993… which just so happens was the year I first went to London myself.

I’ve been to London only twice so far — once in 1993 with my mom and sister; then again in 2002, with my now-husband, our first vacation together. In 2002, we flew into London, where my great uncle picked us up at the airport and took us out to a pub for dinner then back to his house for the night. I hardly remember what else we did in London on that trip, as it was also my first time in Ireland, which I would come to fancy quite a bit and return to instead of London for my next vacation. Together my now-husband and I went on to travel thru Scotland, quite a different bit of the U.K., which we were so charmed by we decided to get married in the next year. London got pushed to the back burner. And here we are some 20 years later about to return with our own children for their first visit to the U.K.

This visit will mirror my first time in London, in that we’re heading there in winter, my children now about the age that my sister and I were when we first stepped foot in Britain. The country is one close to my heart, as it is where my grandmother took refuge before and during World War II; the place that would lead to my existence, as London is where she met and married a handsome U.S. pilot who would sweep her off her feet and take her further from her homeland of Czechoslovakia, relocating to his hometown in Illinois, where my mom would be born about a year and a half after she landed in the USA.

London, you could say, is central to my story, even if I haven’t spent as much time there as I’d like. I grew up spending summers with my grandmother, who dutifully kept her British traditions of afternoon tea and watching “Dr. Who” (thanks to the giant satellite dish she had installed in her yard just so she could watch her British shows and stay connected in a way to the place her brother still lived and she adored). She was a petite woman with a gentle posh British accent. She was my favorite person in the world. Sadly, I never got the chance to visit the place she called “back home” with her, as she died while I was in high school. But this year I plan to finally see some of “her places.” Thanks to some research I’m doing to reconnect with my family history and get dual citizenship in the Czech Republic, I’ve been going through old documents and now know where my grandmother lived in London and where she got married (both in the City of Westminster). These are two places we will visit this year in addition to all the must-see tourist places and other cool things.

Bryson’s version of 1993 London is hard to conceive of next to my own. My version began on Boxing Day that same year, a day we learned the hard way that pretty much everything is closed in London (which looks to be pretty much still true). In America, this is just the day after Christmas, but there, it’s still family time. That we did get, tired and jet lagged after boarding on Christmas evening when other kids were playing with their toys. I was excited. I felt fancy! I didn’t ever think we would be able to afford to go abroad on my single parent mother’s Texas small town teacher salary. But somehow she swung it. It didn’t even really matter that most things were closed, as we still managed to find things to do. (And I also learned a valuable trip planning lesson for my own future travels: to check local holidays before booking a trip.)

Bryson, too, first arrived in the UK in winter, though not a holiday and his entry point was Dover, a place I did visit on my own first UK adventure. All I really remember of my time in Dover was my sister and I gleefully leaning into the massive wind and not falling over, just as the tour guide had told us was possible. I also remember the chalky cliffs and gazing over to France, wishing for the day I’d get to go there. I never have made it to Calais, but Bryson doesn’t paint a pretty picture of it in 1973 or 1993, so maybe I’m not missing much. I have since made it to the much more glamous and celebrated capital of France — Paris and the surrounding area– twice now (in 1999 and last summer) and am already trying to figure out a way back there. On my upcoming trip, we will pass through France and I will get the closest I’ve been to Calais when we take the Eurostar rail from Amsterdam to London via the famed Chunnel (which I’m probably far to excited to get to experience).

While visiting Dover in 1993, our tour also took us to Canterbury, which I was much more charmed by. Not only was it the place Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales were set (& I had actually just read in high school), but it was picture book-cute. My mom was big on guided tours, something my own children have no interest in (and neither do I, really). We much prefer to save money and take public transport and visit exactly what we want on our own time table instead of prescribed items the tours pick out with a rigid schedule. I still see the appeal, as it is so much easier to book a bus tour to say “Stonehenge and Bath” instead of figuring out transport and booking all the entrance tickets or worrying about timing. But I’ve come to see that sort of travel as generic and missing much of which I enjoy most… the meandering and “happening upon” places that seem cool as part of the experience. I may not get to go on long vacations, but I manage to pack in all the makings of a good time, thanks to lots of intensive research (which I think is part of the fun of traveling, as learning the history and culture of places, what locals do and don’t do, what’s “Instagram good” versus really good helps see the world in so many new ways).

That said, this trip to London we’re still going to see and visit many famous places, but we’re also planning smaller customized things for each of us in my family of five. We love flea markets and thrift stores, foodie finds (like Borough Market), museums (of the artsy, historic, scientific and quirky varieties). We’ll hardly be able to make a dent in all there is to do.

On our schedule so far… We’ll delight in the twinkling lighted angels on Regent Street, ride the London Eye, and see Cleopatra’s Needle. I’ll finally get to see a West End theatre performance and get to Shakespeare’s Globe! We’ll hit up the grand (& free!) British Museum, the National Gallery, and the Science Museum, as well as the much smaller Petrie Museum of Egyptian artifacts and maybe even the Sherlock Holmes Museum. But my goals are really simple: give my three kids a good sense of place at one of the most beautiful times of year in London and hope they remember their first time there as fondly as I do. And maybe, just maybe, feel a little bit more connected to family history while we’re at it.

While I’m finding a lot of Bryson’s book dated on this read, a sense of connection is really what he’s after on the pages too. Notes From A Small Island tries to see England again after spending some two decades living there and raising his kids there in his adoptive home before he moves them all (back) to America. If you want to give it a read, a new copy is about $8 on Amazon and I also saw they have used ones for under $2. As for my revising London, I’ll let you know how my family’s visit goes once we’re back after the holidays. Meantime, look for more travel planning guides on the best of London, Newcastle, and Amsterdam as I do a deep research guide for our upcoming trip.

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