e is away....: July 2023

The Hallowed Halls of F's new school (looks rather frill-free)

As most of you have heard, we came, we saw, we rented. Our first day we saw a tiny (418 square feet) apartment in South Kensington that would not fit much more than Chico's enormous desk. I was sort of open to it, but T said it "smelled like glue". Then after much research and graph making and deep deep analysis, he announced if we spent more money, the apartment would be better. Interesting. I think his point was actually the market was rather efficient and we would not pull a fast one over a landlord in London by getting something for nothing. So we took a rather charming, rather large place on the border of Chelsea and South Kensington, very near the wonderful King's Road. It is so fancy in fact, it comes with access to a garden and key. F is not the biggest fan of reposing on lawns, but we shall see.

We will move him in beginning of September, Inshallah. So come visit if you dare (but be warned I am not paying for a cleaning lady), or at least drop in for a garden stroll.

Our landing was rather exciting- there was, thank god not known by me, lots of wind across the runway. So after trudging across the Atlantic for 10 hours, we land on only one side of our wheels and the plane sort of leans weirdly to the side. Somehow we were in first class this time, and I looked at Chico with a sort of hopeful "Maybe this the way it feels at the very front of the plane...?" Anyway we went around again and just when I tried to curse the pilot, we read that another airline had tried three times and given up and landed in Scotland. So welcome to England I guess.

Maybe it's my imagination, but England isn't the same without the Queen. I mean does anyone really get excited to see Charles and Camilla?

Portugal seems to be, climate-wise, the place to be in Europe. It is burning up everywhere but here it is slightly cooler than usual. It's perfect for tennis, and the morning swim makes us gasp and congratulate ourselves (64 degrees).

F and Henry T are living a pretty clean life in anticipation of the Barcelona portion coming up next week. They sampled various war museums and pubs in London and have been seen reading actual books made of paper. In the rest of his free time, F can be found by following the sound of his clicking his Rubik's cube around. We were two days in Porto which was hideously crowded with drunken tourists, but we were in the best hotel room of my life at the Hotel Monumental. I didn't want to leave.

So here we are back in Quinta do Lago with empty nightclubs, and backhands foremost in our minds.
This women's world cup down under is killing me. Lord knows I love these girls, but I can't wake up at 2 am to see them. But get into it people! The characters are so incredible....one of them is Denis Rodman's daughter, and there is a selection of the baddest ass yet somehow also adorable women. One in particular is Rose Lavelle who as one podcaster said is the kind of person when the bar is about to close says...No problem, I know a place that's open for another two hours..." Always having a good time, and plays this joyful kind of soccer with brilliant little moves that bring energy and smiles when she comes on.

Simply google Rose Lavelle karaoke..lol. Then cheer cheer cheer! Apparently during the Holland game which we tied alas, the Dutch coach tried to smack talk our team (US! out of shape??) and then an egregious foul on their part got our fabulous Lindsay Horan so mad she went out and scored immediately. Do not make this woman angry.

Germany is also looking good so we Wehlens are pretty smug. But rear ends in front of the TVs my people.