Sat, Dec 27th

Caffeine fueled another early start to the day as the BBC News channel filled us in on what was happening in the world of technology and world as a whole. I wrote the daily blog entry as Dawn contemplated our travel plans for the day. Brady froze her butt off as she ventured outside to add some nicotine in her bloodstream. The weather since the Kerrs had arrived had been exceptionally mild, until today. This morning a sheet of white covered the cars in the street, the roof tops, and even the field out the back between our house and the railway track.

Jim was good as gold and rose in plenty of time for his fix of caffeine. Dawn had another bowl of grits and I made some fried porridge. Jim even had a taste. Taste being the operative word, as he said he didn't need to finish it all to know that he didn't really enjoy it.

Around 9:30am the four of us set out north on our trek to Castor, a suburb of Peterborough in Cambridgeshire, where Brady has traced the earliest Wooten ancestral burial place. The seventy five mile journey all went well (apart from the scenery, which was some of the most boring that I had ever seen) until we came off the A1(M) at Peterborough. Exiting the service station, we had to rely on the lap of the Gods (and some wonderful intuition from my wonderful wife) to arrive at our destination.

Castor proved to be the perfect finale for Brady and Jim's English vacation. This old English village dates back over two thousand years. The Church of St Kyneburgha was surrounded by quaint streets with houses dating back several centuries and built from local quarried rock and many with thatched roofs.

We parked the car on the street next to the church and made our way through a turn-style type gate to the church yard. Then we were blessed with I have to concede was one of the highlights of the whole trip. From the far end of the church yard, a dozen or so sheep came racing down to see us. (More so to see if we had some food for them). But they looked too beautiful and were perfect for ensuring the grass around the ancient headstones was kept neat and tidy.

Inside the church, we wandered around looking at the ornate carvings and stonework, tombstones covering those who had been laid to rest down the centuries within the church walls, and stained glass windows. Brady took a particular fancy to the many knee cushions, all embroidered with their own pretty designs and colours.

Lunch added to the experience, as we all shared some home-made broccoli, potato and Stilton soup, coupled with a ham and cheese melt, at the thatched-roof Royal Oak pub. There was a roaring fire, low wooden beamed ceilings, and an ambiance that made you want to come back time and again. There was even a local who had been to Canada. Jim found that out when he informed the barman that him and Brady were over from Flowery Branch in the USA.

We arrived home, after stopping off at Tesco to pick up a few groceries, and looked forward to another nice meal to end the day. By general consensus it was agreed that I would pop back to Carleys for some more haddock and chips. This time we were not disappointed and I even got a credit for the two fish that they had messed up last time.

Again, Dawn, Brady and yours truly ended the day in front of the television after Jim disappeared to the spare room. Within an hour we were all calling it a night anyway.