Not every thought: Sept. 11

Nine years ago (Nine? Really?), Suzi and I had the great good fortune to be in London the last weekend Queen Elizabeth II was going to be at Balmoral Castle in Scotland, meaning it was the last weekend Buckingham Palace would be open for tours that year.

As you might imagine, security was rather tight and lengthy to get through, but it’s not every day you get to do something like that — literally, like I said, it was only open for tours when she was at Balmoral. Plus, all the Royal tchotchkes your heart desires were in the gift shop, including miniature Prince George prams.

But that’s not the only expertise I’ve gained about the Royal Family from the vast amount of time I’m spent in the UK … basically three total weeks in London and another couple days in Scotland.

We also visited the Queen’s official Scottish residence at Holyrood Palace, saw Westminster Abbey, Windsor Castle and Hampton Court Palace, where I angered King Henry VIII by having the temerity to question whether he was, actually, the ultimate alpha male.

I’m lucky His Majesty didn’t send me to the Tower of London, so I got to see it as something other than a prisoner.

But even when I’m not being a tourist, I’m polishing my bona fides by spending a couple hours a week watching travel shows featuring a former British transport minister — by the way, big miss by the BBC for not having him on when they told the story about Queen Elizabeth II marking the day she became Britain’s longest-serving monarch by opening a train line in Scotland — and watching Lucy Worsley’s documentaries.

So as you can see, I have the depth of experience and knowledge necessary to add my learned commentary about the Queen’s death to all that has been written and shared on social media. And that commentary is …

… nothing.

Seriously, I have nothing to add to the conversation about such a historic occasion that anyone should care about, so I won’t.

Because sometimes, it’s really OK to sit one out. (This, by the way, is the same reason I’m not commenting on today’s anniversary of 9/11, other than to say I can’t believe it has been 21 years.)

Thanks to Graham for sharing the above, which inspired this little essay.

The results are in

My summer musings netted me a distant fourth in Paul’s latest Captain’s Quiz. Based on my last two finishes, it looks like I’m settling in for a battle to be the boss of the midfield. May I do better at it than McLaren is. (Then again, I’m seven races from not caring about McLaren other than hoping both their drivers crash every time out.)

And Renata won again.

Stuff I read

Jeff shares memories of his mother, who died last week.

Bruce says goodbye to summer … and the pictures! It’s really not fair to write that well and be that good of a photographer.

Rosie has been with her fiancé for six years. Here’s what she has learned.

Mari learns a lesson from trees.

Renata is full of schemes, and if you’re not careful, she’ll rope you into one.

Savannah heard a song that took her back to childhood.

Becky’s eternal battle … automatic sinks.

Pea Green did have something worth contributing about Queen Elizabeth’s death, as it relates to her grandmother.

Fran has thoughts on Britain’s new prime minister.

Pepper writes about failure, but the failure is definitely not hers.

Michelle shares more of the simple things she enjoys.

Ally ponders what to say when you have to say something, and you don’t know what to say.

Given my fear at being lost, this piece by Aubrey Hirsch spoke to me.

Vee’s struggling.

BosssyBabe’s daughter is off to kindergarten. The reaction is what you might expect.

Tweets I liked

This had me ready to run through a wall, and I’m neither Welsh nor a soccer player.

Going to the beach on Cape Cod after the summer folks leave is a wonderful thing.

Hi, Leroy!
One of my various explanations for life is “We never actually leave junior high school.”

I’m sure they thought it was a good idea at the time, but it was very much not a good idea.

If this works out, it could merit consideration for the Mount Rushmore of Greatest Things Ever.
There’s a town in Massachusetts called Athol. Should be self-explanatory.

There used to be a radio station that played a promo where an older woman asked about the Deutsche Bank Championship (it was a golf tournament near Boston) … and it did not sound like she was saying “Deutsche Bank.”

What would happen if a concert full of people actually tried to tell the singer how they were doing?

Little man is committed.

I was happily living my life, not knowing about this movie, until Suzi mentioned it at breakfast. Then, like how you notice every car is red once you buy a red car, it was all I could see for about three days.

Those things happen when you get older. Trust me, I know.

2 thoughts on “Not every thought: Sept. 11

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