Hunting for the White Horse Inn, Dinner with a Hobbit WED. JULY 21

   Today we made the 2 hour drive to Cambridge, stopping at the American military cemetery where many of crewman killed in bombing missions over Europe during WW2 are buried, and the names of the missing are recorded on a special wall. Once in Cambridge during my exploration time I went looking for the site of the White Horse Inn.  It was a pub where a group of students and tutors met (secretly, in a back room) during the 1520's and studied the Bible in English and discussed Luther's writings.  It was the first English-speaking student small group Bible study, and all current ones can trace their spiritual ancestry back to it (except maybe for the fact that they met over beer).  Some of its members went on to be leaders of the Reformation in England, and several were burned at the stake under Bloody Mary.  The two most famous were Ridley and Cranmore—principle author of the Book of Common Prayer.  When I first visited Cambridge in 1994 I stumbled across a plaque in the sidewalk without realizing what I had found.  Upon discovering its significance I looked for it again on my next trip and couldn't find it.  This time I knew where it was supposed to be, but still couldn't find it for a while.  I discovered that because of a building remodel the plaque in the sidewalk was gone—a new one had been put on a near-by wall.  I had walked right by it several times without seeing it, because was looking at the ground, not the walls.  There is probably a sermon illustration there somewhere.
   We had dinner in the private Mountbatten* dining room in Christ's College with a hobbit.  Well, that was how someone described him… the Rev. Dr. Malcolm Guite—small, fuzzy, convivial over food and wine and a poet and poetic scholar.  He recited some poetry, some his some that was written by others that he loved (especially Seamus Heaney), and talked, and ate, and talked.  If Lewis and his friends talked and shared their writings like this, I can see why they had little interest in television when it came along.  Sherry before the meal, red and white wine during, and Port after all bore the label of the college's private cellar.  As did the after-dinner chocolates.  Dessert does not end a meal where conversation continues—cheeses and chocolates come after…  I wanted to participate in the whole experience, so I had at least a sip of each of the beverages—but it was probably wasted on me.  I savored the chocolates to make up for it, though.  It was like dinner at Rivendell…
  You can probably figure out which person in the picture is Malcolm.

*Lord Mountbatten was, among other things, the great-uncle of Prince Charles, and served as Supreme Commander Allied Forces South-East Asia during WW2.  The sword he received at the surrender of Singapore at the end of the war is mounted in the room.

Footloose (not footsore) in Oxford TUES. JULY 20

   We did a walking tour of Oxford today.  My blisters caused by walking miles in wet socks and shoes at the Open have healed enough that I hardly limped.  We stopped by the graveyard where several of the Inklings, including Charles Williams, are buried—as well as Kenneth Grahame (The Wind in the Willows).  Kim, one of the program leaders who has spent every summer at the Kilns since 1993 and oversaw much of the restoration, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the places and moments in CS Lewis' life, and we paused several times to read excerpts from Surprised by Joy that pertained to where we were.  The greatest impact was Magdalen (pronounced Mawdlen) College and its grounds and deer park…  As we walked down Addison's Walk, Kim read from SBJ the account Lewis wrote about doing the same one evening with Tolkien and another friend, where they shredded the remaining arguments he had against the Christian faith.  A couple of days later he would become a believer, while making a trip in the sidecar of Warnie's motorcycle (no comment about what kind of driver Warnie was).
   One of the few memorials to Lewis at Magdalen is a simple plaque on the gate of the deer park along Addison's walk with one of his poems on it:

What the Bird Said Early in the Year


I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.
Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.
This year time’s nature will no more defeat you.
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.
This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well worn track.
This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.
Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick! – the gates are drawn apart.

It is a deeply calming place, with swans and deer and rabbits and the occasional punt floating by…

The Kilns and Pub Life MON. JULY 19

    In 1929 CS Lewis father—whom he had not been close to since he was shipped off to boarding school at age 9—died, and left the 2 Lewis brothers enough money to think about buying a house.  Since Lewis was also caring for Mrs. Moore, the mother of a friend killed in WWI, she also contributed about 40% of the purchase price, with 'Jack' (the nickname Clive Staples Lewis had given himself as a boy) and Warnie each contributing 30%.  With the crashing market of 1929, they were able to purchase a house on the site of an old brickyard that came with about 20 acres of land, including several ponds which had once been clay pits and a part of the highest hill in the area, known as Shotover Hill.  At the top of Shotover a little beyond their property ran the old Roman and Medieval road from Bath to London, traversed by kings, queens, and armies.  In his 34 years at The Kilns Jack would plant a thousand trees on this property, and today most of it is the CS Lewis Nature Preserve.   After his brother died in 1963 Warnie subdivided the level part around the house and sold the lots to make ends meet, so the house itself now sits on a suburban cul-de-sac (which the English call a 'Close', the term the Scots use for the narrow lanes of Edinburgh).
   I am staying upstairs in  the room which belonged to Mrs. Moore for 18 years, and then became Jack's study.  While she lived there the door to his room next door was closed off, and he had to go down a set of outside stairs to get anywhere else in the house, including the WC.  When it became his study in the late 1940's and throughout the 1950's, Lewis did much of his writing there, looking out toward his woods and pond.  It is safe to say that much of the Narnia Chronicles were written in the room.  So far I am feeling much more inspired to read than to write ;) being here.
   Lewis spent much of his time outside of Magdalen College engaging friends and neighbors at local pubs.  We have been told that a pub is not just a bar, but rather more like a social club.  Many local parishes did not have fellowship halls, and pubs filled the gap.  Many are actually owned by breweries and only sell their lines of beers, ales, stouts, porters, and bitters; others are called 'free houses', independently owned and able to serve whatever they want.  Many are hundreds of years old and nearly unchanged.  An interesting—and fattening—part of our time here is that all of our lunches and half of our dinners are being eaten in various pubs, most of which were frequented by Lewis.  It would not be unusual for him to walk 45 minutes or an hour to reach a favorite pub and spend a lunch or an evening with good friends.  Over the years The Eagle and Child (fondly called The Bird and Baby) has gotten most of the attention because that is where the Inklings met weekly, but it was by no means his favorite.   Pictures are (above) a view of the Kilns when Lewis bought it in 1929 (with some actual kilns still standing),  the house today as seen from the street put in after his death (the smaller photo), one of his favorite pubs, the Perch, that lies by the river (its the Thames but in Oxford they call it the Isis) with its thatched roof, and what I had to drink there (think Dr. Pepper on steroids, then squared).

Water closets all around SUN. JULY 18

   My hotel last night was not a great experience.  It was well reviewed on TripAdvisor, but I think the reviewers were small people.  The room was a "single", which hereabouts means "smaller than a twin" .  The bed was 30 inches wide (an American twin is 36) and the room was double that width.  The bathroom was a one-piece modular thing the size of an airplane restroom.  No, I mean really!   Except that they crammed a shower in there…  I am above average through the chest and shoulders--25 inches across at the elbows if sitting flat against a chair or standing back flat to a wall.  As I mentioned, the bed was 30 inches across.  Most economy airline seats are 18-19 inches, some less and very few larger than that.
The shower in this bathroom was square on 3 sides and bowed at the open side, where the curtain hung.  It was 30 inches long and 18 inches at the widest part of the bow.  If I stood lengthwise with a shoulder toward the nozzle, I could fit but not move…  I don' t think any average or larger man could use it.  Considering it was by far and away the most expensive room of any of my trips this year (which have included some pretty nice rooms) I was, uhm, disappointed?
Arriving at The Kilns this afternoon I discovered that here we have a traditional water closet, which contains only a toilet.  There is another old one (Lewis's personal WC) that also has a sink, and 2 newer ones the same but they are in parts of the house where I won't be using them.  There is also a traditional bath-room… that is a room with a bathtub and sink, and another recent addition of a small shower in a room of its own.  Lewis would have used the bath, of course.
  Tonight we went to Evensong at the local parish church, which Lewis considered to be his church and attended faithfully.  He is buried in the churchyard—a beautiful place with a touch of wild—along with his brother Warnie, whom he also referred to as "his best friend".  One window in the church now has scenes from Narnia cut in it.
The pictures are (above) the hotel shower (notice a normal bath towel almost fills it) and below, the grave and the church from the grave.

***update #1-  I think they left the ham and cheese of the free hotel continental breakfast out too long.  Nasty things are happening…
***update#2-  I was running late when I left the hotel (they have an early check-out and I left a bag of socks and my US Open hat behind… when I called them this afternoon, they insisted they had not found anything.  But as I left the room I snapped a picture to show the size, and I can see the bag sitting on the bed!

Sittin' in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination woo-oo SAT. JULY 17

St. Andrews actually no longer has a train station, so everyone has to bus 8 miles to Leuchars, where I am currently the sole inhabitant of the waiting room… oops, a train just stopped and a gaggle have queued up for the "toilet".
 The fact that I am here and it is only 12:09 (noonish) on Saturday occasions some sadness:  Loren missed the cut.    Yesterday was a very strange day at The Old Course…  There was rain in the morning but no wind, and the players who went early enough to finish by 11:45 AM put together some good scores.  By 10 am or so the rain stopped, the sun came out, and the greens were soft and welcoming.  At 11:45 AM as I was waiting for Loren to tee off the rain started again, and by the time he took his first swing at 11:55 am there was a full gale blowing as well.  The rain continued only long enough to soak everyone not wearing a full body poncho, and a few umbrellas met untimely ends in the wind.   But after the rain the wind continued stronger and stronger.   By the 8th hole it was moving the ball as he putted, and when he reached the 10th hole play was suspended for almost 90 minutes because the wind was blowing balls off the greens! 
  A bright spot was that Chris Jones (see post for May) made it in for the day—he is in a summer program in Cambridge and some of his classmates were coming, so he came, too.  Anyway, my host Dave's family fly back today, so I am heading out.  I will miss the crush tomorrow and instead of a 1.5 hour long train ride to Edinburgh, then 5 hours to London, 30 minutes in the Underground, and another 1.5 hour train ride to Oxford and 30 minutes on a bus (all of which would require leaving about 5 AM in order to arrive on time) I will break up the trip and stay in London tonight.  Unfortunately could not get the cheap room in university housing on this short of notice…
   After the golf on Thursday I walked down to the ruins of the St. Andrews Castle and cathedral.  The castle was the place where John Knox started the first Protestant congregation in Scotland—the roots of the Presbyterian strand of faith—while the castle was under siege by royal forces and their French allies.  It eventually fell and Knox and his congregation were mostly sent as slaves to row in French navy galleys, after which he managed to make his way to Geneva and John Calvin.  Upon returning his preaching sometimes provoked his congregations into destructive acts, one of which was the destruction of the interior of St. Andrews Cathedral, then the largest building in Scotland.  The exterior then fell into ruin in a few decades.  The photos are of the cathedral ruins castle...

Mass Posts... July 17-28

I have been unable to post the last 11 days but have been writing, so I am now putting them up as fast as I can edit, format, and add pictures...  Thanks for your patience.  I'll put the actual date of writing in the titles.

Greyfriars and the birthplace of Harry Potter

     One of the the most historic spots in Edinburgh (pronounced 'Edinborough', heavy on the burrrrro) is Greyfriars.  The name comes from the Franciscan monks, who wore grey cloaks (the Dominicans wore black cloaks and were called Blackfriars).  It is a church in a spot that originally belonged to the Franciscans but after the Scottish Reformation—led by John Knox—became a Church of Scotland parish—or what we call "Presbyterian".  In 1638 many leading Scots signed a covenant there pledging to defend Presbyterian faith when it seemed to be threatened, especially by Charles I who wanted the Scottish church brought in line with the Church of England, under bishops chosen by the king.  A few years later support of these 'Covenanters' helped swing the victory of Parliament in the English Civil War, costing Charles his head.  When his son was restored to the throne as Charles II, he was even more determined to force compliance and many of the Covenanters rebelled, only to eventually be defeated (partly because of their disunity brought about by theological bickering).  After the final battle 1200 of them were imprisoned in part of the Greyfriars churchyard, and eventually most were shipped overseas into slavery.  Several hundred died in the prison, and several hundred more when the ship transporting them sank while they were locked in its hold.
   They took church rather seriously in those days.  I mean, I've heard people say "I'd rather die or be sold into slavery than be an Episcopalian," but still...
At the same time this was going on, adjacent to the churchyard and the area where they were imprisoned a school for orphans built as the bequest of a generous believer name George Heriot was built.  The school has four corner towers built around a central turret and subsequently became one of the finest schools in Edinburgh.  Its students are traditionally divided into 4 houses... starting to sound familiar?  Just outside the churchyard, with a view of the school and nearby Edinburgh Castle which sits on a spur of rock, is the Pink Elephant Cafe—one of the cafes a single mother named Joanne Rowley used to sit in and write a book about a boy wizard.  Take the school and sit it on the spur of rock and you have something much more like the description in the book than the image used in the movies...  That's the school in the background below—

Live (but footsore) from the British Open

    St. Andrews is a place I have wanted to visit ever since I first saw it during a British Open broadcast many years ago.  I knew of it as the birthplace of golf long before I discovered it was the birthplace of Presbyterianism.  So this post I will talk about golf.
   My friend Loren Roberts is playing here this week for the 150th Open Championship.   He was kind enough to procure a pass for me, and another friend found housing—with Dave Reinhardt while his wife and daughter are back in the US visiting family.  Dave is a PhD student at the University of St. Andrews, 3rd oldest university in the English-speaking world and his wife was on IV staff at Davidson.  Dave is someone I probably have bumped into without knowing it in the past—for instance, he attended our Following Christ conference in Chicago a year-and-a-half ago.  He is in a program called the "Institute for Theology, Imagination, and the Arts".  Let's start one of those at the MIT Media Lab!

   But back to golf.  Did you know that the Apostle Paul played golf?  He talked about his problems with his swing in Romans 7:  "I don't understand what I do.   What I wish to do I do not do, and what I do not wish to do I do."  I have experienced that many times on the golf course... but off the course as well.  Loren experienced some of that today.  Putts—his bread and butter—would not drop, and he found himself in one of the nasty pot bunkers that sit right in the middle of the fairway...  He played in the second group out this morning, at 6:40 AM and with a bit of jet lag did not get much sleep.  I didn't either (I hate being up that early without jet lag!) but I did not have to play in the grand-daddy of all golf tournaments.  The weather was mostly drizzle with occasional rain, and in the end he shot a one-over on his round.  Which is not good, as the weather improved by mid morning and with soft greens and fairways the scores have been very good.  Ah, well.

   Last night Dave and I ate dinner and while he went to his small group I walked in the rain to the course, in the vain hope the "Ticket Collection office" (what we call WillCall) would still be open.  I stumbled upon the 18th fairway, which ends right in the town, and is a famous and iconic view.  I took the picture above of the bridge over Swilken Burn at 8:30 pm in the fog and rain, and when I passed by the 17th green a few minutes later was startled to see some of the players still out on the course practicing...

Some signs to arouse your curiousity...

  It is very late here and I have a long day...  I tramped around Edinburgh for about 9 hours today and still saw just a fraction—I'll answer the questions these picture raise tomorrow.

Sitting beneath Arthur's Seat

Made it to Edinburgh tonight... the train was very full—as full as the conductor had ever seen it, he said—because of the Open.  I walked around the part of town where my dorm is located before finding a nice little Chinese place.  An interesting/disconcerting lesson:  Take-out food is much cheaper than eat-in food, I think because of the VAT.  The same dish I paid about $12 for was only about $8 to go...

  There are many disconnects for me like that in pricing, all driven by VAT.
   As I walked out of my room for dinner about 9:30 pm I could look behind the dorm and see The Crags and Arthur's Seat, which dominates the Edinburgh skyline.  First picture below is the Crags and the dorm, then Arthur's Seat and the dorm.  Arthur's Seat is where the famous scene in Chariots of Fire ("I feel God's pleasure when I run!) took place.  As I took the picture I notice a lone silhouette on top... but as the minutes went by more and more appeared; people who made the 3 hour hike to see the sunset. [if you click on the second picture it will expand, and you can see him]  I watched with some envy, but continued on.  Tuesday I will explore Edinburgh and will get plenty of climbing.

They shoot tennis shoes, don't they?

    My 3 days back in Cambridge coincided with a hot spell on the east coast, an interesting contrast to LA where everyone was apologizing for the 'cold' weather (it was in the 70's, which is perfect for me).  I had a lot of errands to run:  Got a haircut, my car got an oil change,  I made a trip to Costco to restock my vitamins… I am, if there is such a word, a vitaminaholic.  I also had to buy a new pair of sneakers.  My old ones were pretty worn out and I knew I would have to replace them soon, but they came to an abrupt end in Santa Monica.  When I got out of my car outside the building where Ji-Jon and Felicity live, I stepped into a pile of the stuff dog owners are supposed to take care of when they walk their critters in the city…  My hosts were from Singapore, and like many Asian homes they don't even wear clean shoes in their apartment.  It just so happened that as I was trying to figure out how to fit everything in my small suitcase I also was trying to think of how to clean my shoes so they wouldn't send the various X-sniffing dogs working around airports into a frenzy, in addition to permanently stinking up the suitcase.
   The logical conclusion was to treat them like they used to treat horses with broken legs.  I shot them.  Well, figuratively, anyway.
   They were good shoes and we covered a lot of miles together.  I'm hoping their replacements—almost identical—will serve me as well  (notice I'm experimenting with lace locks?  I hope never to tie—and retie—them again).  Tonight I will stay near Heathrow and tomorrow I have a 1+ hour ride in the Tube to King's Cross Station, then a 4+ hour train ride to Edinburgh, where I will be staying in the dorms of the University of Edinburgh (having read How the Scots Invented the Modern World:  The True Story of How Western Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World & Everything in It, in which the U of E figures very prominently, I'm looking forward to my stay).  Unfortunately, all my UCCF colleagues (British InterVarsity) appear to be out of town on vacation or mission projects.  Anyone have some friends in Edinburgh?

It's not the end of the world if I'm not posting...

It rained early this morning in Los Angeles. Rain in Southern California in July! Followed by an earthquake—In the face of such a clear sign of the impending apocalypse, it is no wonder there have been no posts to this blog in the last week…
Actually, it is more that I have been spending a lot of time catching up with old friends. Not necessarily friends that are old (although one is in her 90’s) but those for whom there is a certain, let us say, ‘depth’ to the relationship. Pictured below is Tony Sbrana. Tony and I have known each other since high school, although we were in different years at different schools. We met through Young Life, and the real friendship began later when we worked together in Young Life at Monterey High. Over the years Tony has given much laughter and shared many of his creative talents with me, but what I appreciate most is the gift of presence he gave during several of my family’s times of loss. You know your true friends when they show up for you… “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” (Prov. 17:17)

I’ve also spent time with another colleague from that period, and 2 of the high school students we worked with (some of those former students have children who have graduated from high school now!)
My family also had a big family holiday weekend. Friday was my sister’s birthday, so my brother-in-law fired up the grill… then did it again for July 4th. We had the type of family meal I remember from the 4th of July when I was a boy: BBQ, corn-on-the-cob, home-made ice cream with strawberries. Unfortunately Monterey has banned all fireworks and there were no public displays within 50 miles. We could see and hear the occasional illegal one down toward the beach, though.

   On Monday I said good-bye and drove through the holiday traffic to LA (20 mph on I-5 over the whole Grapevine!) and spent a great 20 hours with Prof. Yann Schrodi and his wife Janet. I intended to post something then, but we watched the World Cup semifinal (Yann is from Alsace-Lorraine and of course a big soccer fan) and then walked across campus to his office. I then hopped on the freeway to downtown, driving partway in rush-hour traffic on some famous streets including Rodeo Drive, Wilshire Blvd., and Santa Monica Blvd. to meet the son of my college roommate who is an aspiring screenwriter. Then on to Santa Monica and its famous beach for an evening with Dr. Ji-Jon Sit and his wife Felicity. We walked through the downtown for some frozen yogurt and talked past midnight. I had really, really planned to post something then, but I can’t trade a conversation with friends I have not seen for too long with writing about missing the chance to have a conversation with friends I have not seen for too long! As I have commented about all social media, they are great for keeping up with absent friends, but no substitute for present ones.
So now I am on a plane bound for Boston, and a brief stopover to pick up my mail, restock my vitamins, get my hair cut, check-in with my spiritual director, and head back to the airport for another long flight on Sunday morning.
  Below:  Yann (MIT PhD 2001 Chemstry) in his office (the bumper sticker with the ??? is great!);
then Felicity, me, Ji-Jon