Monday 29 August 2022--Two years, ten months, and two days...that's how long it's been since I boarded an airplane. My spring trip to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia awakened the travel bug after a long dormancy, but now it's time to cross the pond again, at last. There were times in the past two years when I wasn't sure it would ever happen. With so much time to sit and ponder, I found myself thinking more and more of Norway and the Lofoten Islands. It's a destination that's been high on my list for a long time--too long--and I promised myself that, if and when I could travel, that's where I would go. And so I am.

Somewhere along the way, the phrase "slow boat to Lofoten" popped into my head. The original expression, "slow boat to China", apparently comes from the world of poker, referencing a player who slowly but surely gambles away his stake. It came to mean something unbearably tedious, and then later, in part due to the 1948 Frank Loesser song "On A Slow Boat To China", something pleasurable that warranted a leisurely pace. I'm thinking of the years I've spent contemplating going there before finally following through; but also about making sure I don't rush what will likely be a once-in-a-lifetime journey. I'll spend almost four weeks in Norway. This will come at the expense of possible time in Scotland. With Ron not available to join me, this is the year to do it. I'll have nine nights in the UK at the end, but they won't be very ambitious. Four will be spent in Seahouses, and on the Northumbrian beaches.

Bobby drives me to Framingham this afternoon to catch the Logan Express. He's returning a favor--I did the same for him when he went to Ireland in June, his first trip in three years. I'd like to go with him one year...another one I should bump up the list. Who knows how many more years there will be.