For some reason, each time I return to England, it is sunny. Days and days of sunshine. Entire weeks of nothing but sun and breeze and glorious weather that is so very un-English it surprises me every time. When I lived here, however, that never seemed to be the case....
The night before our flight to London was the first time my four-year-old seemed upset that his brother and I were leaving. “But sweetie, you’ll be with Daddy and we’ll come home in just seven days,” I reassured him. He threw himself on the bed...
