The first time I was in Boston, the friend I was traveling with and I happened upon the swan boats, and I started babbling about The Trumpet of the Swan and how much I'd ADORED that book as a child. Val had never read it and looked at me like I was mildly crazy.

I felt the same way when I saw the swan boats in Boston! Also, when I saw the pond in Central Park where Stuart Little raced his little ship.

I remember touching a Roman wall at the Museum of London, and about having a historical orgasm just thinking about all the people who have touched it through the years, who they were, when they were, their hopes and dreams and fears -- their essential humanity.

I get that same tingle, but being the Midwesterner that I am, anything older than 1875 can do that to me. The one time I was in Boston and saw a graveyard with stones going back to the 1700s gave me chills.

I've walked through what remains of the 100 Acre Wood, and played Pooh Sticks at Pooh Sticks Bridge.

I felt just the same way about the London wall. I'm not alone!

Literary pilgrimages:

Green Gables on PEI
Orchard House
Walden Pond
House of Seven Gables
Hannibal, Missouri
A drink at the Hay-Adams Hotel, on the site of the home Henry Adams built with John Hay.
Hadrian's Wall (Rosemary Sutcliff)
221 Baker Street
The home where Samuel Johnson wrote the dictionary
Stratford upon Avon
Tintagel and Glastonbury (Arthur)

I remember touching a Roman wall at the Museum of London

Even bigger tingle -- the piece of Roman wall still standing in place near the Tower of London. (It's just outside the nearest Underground station.)

I would also love to see Orchard House (is that it?), Louisa May Alcott's childhood home.

I've been there. I'd be happy to go back with you anytime you are up this way.

Almost every trip I have taken to England has had some sort of literary pilgrimage in it. Bath was my favorite. I loved all of the Jane Austen things there. I also have seen Austen's house in Chawton, Kipling's house, I love the Globe in London (even though it is not original). There's more but I can't remember them all right now.

I remember being disappointed that I couldn't convince our tour guide to stop at Elizabeth Barrett Browning's grave in Florence.

I haven't been to London since the new Globe was built. Want.

Reading so informs my world that almost all my travel is some sort of literary pilgrimage. I also discovered that my large intake of British murder mysteries meant I had no trouble with the language or culture. I found it startling that there were Americans around me baffled by lift, lorry and what floor they were on.

I took my copy of Gaudy Night to Oxford the second time I went.

I also discovered that my large intake of British murder mysteries meant I had no trouble with the language or culture.

I realized semi-recently that my large intake of old British murder mysteries is why I'm always surprised when it's not five dollars to the pound -- because that's what it was in the 30s! Der.

Jesse, wait a little while - it should be back there!