Work, work, work!

Did I mention work? After sleeping like a baby (one does have to wonder at the metaphor; does this mean waking up every two hours and crying? Not in my case last night. The metaphor equates to just short of ten hours! No kidding), I spent the entire day emailing and making phone calls, studying the map and fine tuning plans. Tomorrow morning I'm joined by my Mr Pipes-and hymns-enthusiast guests for what I'm praying will be eleven days of rich blessing and fellowship for all of us.

The neighborhood I'm staying in is earthy and interesting. Definitely not the 4-star accommodations we will be enjoying on the tour. And the eclectic blend of humanity staying in this intensely out of round airbnb place is odd, fascinating, not-normal--I guess I fit right in! Reminds me of my youth hostel days in the eighties.

Malika, the proprietor, has been a real dear. It's a sad story really. The old pub she has been operating as an airbnb is slated for the wrecking ball in a week or so. Close enough to center city London, the property is just too valuable; a renovated old pub could never generate the revenue that high-rise condominiums could do on the same real estate footprint. So down she comes. I'm hopeful they'll wait until after I leave tomorrow morning!

Malika has spent the afternoon and evening plotting out a sort of end-of-life party for the old pub (she is very talented; skillfully crafted story board work for the gala she is planning with her sister and Hannah and some other friends). It's really quite impressive--and sad. An English teacher from Cheltenham and two young men from Germany and I looked on as they schemed together. The Marlborough pub as you see pictured with its warm, once-cozy fire, will shortly be no more.

It reminds me of what Woody Allan recently said when asked if he hoped his film legacy would last forever, "I don't care about my film legacy. I want to last forever."