Tragedy

My sincere condolences to all of my British friends for the loss of so many lives in the Underground/bus bombings this morning. It's terrible. A year ago, almost to the day, I was in Kings Cross Station, arriving back in London from my travels in Scotland. We stayed in the most wonderful little hotel right across the street from Kings Cross called Hotel Alhambra. I'm sad for the folks we met who own the place (Bruno, Miguel, and family), who are probably a bit crazy right now, wondering what in the world is going on. For Peter and his family, who, though a distance away up in Scotland, are probably experiencing something similar to what we in Georgia felt on 9/11.

And for the rest, who I didn't really know, but who have made my travels in London much more fun to tell about (John Hood at The Quest hostel; the guy in Lo Spuntino across from Hyde Park who cut Rebecca and me a half of a cake to eat, on the house, when we were hungry and out of money and waiting for the embassy to open to get a new passport after Reba's was stolen; our fun friend on the Big Bus tour who we saw, randomly, outside of the Petrol Station the next day and convinced to get in a picture with us; the cute business man outside of the American Embassy who was embarrassed to find Rebecca and me giggling about him; the McCrae family leading the little Free Church of Scotland up in Dingwall; the guy who gave up his day off to take Matt, Amy, and I on a private tour of the Parliament building in London; and so many others). My prayers go out to all of you!

I love the UK!