Malcolm picked me up in his pink Honda Fit WAY
too early – 7am! Ugh. We zipped along the motorway with no delays – it was
Saturday and the traffic was light. We made perfect time, arriving more quickly
than expected (early enough to have a little walk around the beautiful,
extensive grounds). Saw several
compatriots as we arrived in the parking lot. Saturdays are busy around here,
and the carpark was good and packed. (My parents, back in the day when they
were serving there, would have been pleased!)
The London temple is actually out in the lovely
West Sussex countryside, rather than being located in any specific place – Crawley,
the closest town. Whereas sessions are an hour apart during the week, today
they are every half hour. As we entered the lobby, we were greeted by a man in
white – you know the drill . . .
Following the session (the new name sister told
me I was a minute too late – just before me she had given out an Elizabeth
Taylor) we visited the little distribution center. Ended up at the same spot as
several branch members, including Joseph himself. Told Malcolm that if he
hadn’t been there to lead me down the convoluted route to get to the center, I
never even would have known it existed. (In one conversation in which I
participated, a sister asked where I was from. Her response to my answer was,
‘oh, Provo - home of the MTC!’ I had never heard my hometown represented in
just that particular way before.’) Several miles away, on our drive home, we
stopped by a miniature, family-owned ‘Deseret Book’ – bumped into many of the Branch
members again! In the sale area I purchased a couple used CDs (whereas CDs are
universal, VHS are NOT) that had been signed by their major LDS music artists,
including Jenny Oaks Baker. The young lady at the front, daughter of the shop owner,
told me that they had been hers, that she’d gotten them when she’d attended conventions
in Salt Lake where she’d gotten acquainted with many of the artists. One, for
instance, was Marvin Goldstein – who I know to be quite a cut-up – who, she
told me, would say whenever he saw her, ‘Crumpets – can somebody please get
this girl some crumpets?!’ Silly man!
Headed for home we took a brief stop in/look at
the downtown area of Guildford (the ‘d’ is silent), on the outside edge of the
greater metropolis of London, where Malcolm had once lived a number of years
back. (It also happens to be the home of one of my new friends from the most
recent singles convention – Connell.) Guildford, according to Malcolm, is quite
a posh area (you could definitely tell by the appearance and accoutrements of
the shoppers we saw strolling along – the difference between its clientele and
what I’m used to seeing in the ‘backwaters’ of Weymouth was marked), that, next
to London itself, is where people travel to for the shopping. Further along our route we saw a long row of hills that Malcolm said were called the
Southern Downs. (But how, I queried, can what’s ‘up’ be called ‘the downs?’) We
also passed quite closely by the town of Horsham, where one of my mother’s
family’s hails from – didn’t have time to stop unfortunately. I also learned
that what we call a speed bump is known affectionately by some here as a
‘sleeping policeman.’ Hah, that’s funny!
All in all it had been a lovely day. Arrived
home just in time to change modes and don the habit of Polly for the dinner review.)
Photos_
1- what British rest stops have that ours don’t!
2- picturesque reflecting pool
3- House of the Lord, with Malcolm
4- shopping day on the High Street of Guildford
