Hello all,I am writing this closing post for our England adventures from the comfort of my own home in Gettysburg. As you might surmise from this fact, we made it home safely (though some of us were a little worse for the wear- more on that later) but I thought you may want to hear about our last few magical days on our dream sabbatical.
Our last week in Cambridge was filled with cleaning and packing, the weighing of the worth of objects we collected and the continued usefulness of things we had brought with us. But there was also a bit of celebration with friends and some sad goodbyes salved with the exchange of email and social media contact information. Both of the boys' classes had term presentations meant to show parents what they had been studying for the last few months. The school is paperless so not much came home with the boys and I had to rely on their spotty memories to hear what they were actually learning about. The presentation was a nice little recap to fill in any of the gaps Leif and Klaus had left in their own re-tellings. Their school dance club also had a short recital and they regaled us parents with some avant-guard dance routines choreographed by the students themselves. Surprisingly one was of a highly stylized fight-scene.
Our last cycle to school started out routine enough with me crossing my fingers over these final two rides, hoping to avoid any incident which would adversely affect my planned sale of said bicycle in a mere 24 hours.The push over the train bridge did feel especially difficult but I just chalked it up to an old ankle injury and kept going. But by the time we got through the last cattle grate in Coldhams Common it was clear that there was something wrong with the bike. I pulled over immediately to discover a completely flat front wheel. As we were close enough to the school to foot it the rest of the way I locked up the bike on a nearby rack and marched the boys the last few blocks. After dropping them at their classroom doors, I managed to push the bike the three mile walk to the nearest bakfiets cycle shop, further irritating my ankle but in the end successful. Jay and his crew fixed the flat in no time and gave the bike a good once-over so that I could present it to my buyer in good confidence. As long as nothing happened on the way home from school. <<nervous cringe>>
After school the boys and I went for one last time to the football pitch with the little friend group that we have collected here. As always, bouts of football and football-related arguments were interspersed with snacks of every description, including a huge ziplock of leftover Hershey's Kisses that the boys gave out to their classes. All the kids and mums signed a card for us complete with addresses and we had a round of group photos before the sun set at 3:30. All sugared-up and sad we cycled home for the last time through Coldhams Commons, over the train bridge, through the Asda car-park, behind the B&M, up Vera's Way, through the neighborhood and back to home safe. Whew!
That night we ate our last meal in Cambridge at the same place we had eaten our first- The Cambridge Blue. I will definitely miss this cozy pub, its excellent pies, and fabulous garden. Luckily I am one of the few American's who has a neighborhood pub situation (Though ABC can't really be described a cozy)but I think on,the whole more, Americans could use this type of establishment in their lives. It is stress relief and community building all in one:)
On Saturday we planned a leisurely move southward to London not setting any sort of time-table for ourselves so as to avoid any unnecessary stress. Since we lived in a furnished rental we were required to wash all of the linens before we left. That meant five loads of laundry were left hanging to dry all over the bathroom when we finally locked up the place.
A little after 9:00, Stuart, the kind gentleman from Peterborough who was buying my bike, arrived as planned. He took the bike for a spin, found it to be in the same condition as when he had first tried it and handed me a wad of cash totaling 900 Pounds. I was really sad to give the bike up but I know it would have been a terrible, possibly marriage-ending, struggle to get it home. Stuart, who had originally told me he was going to take it home on the train, took his leave with the plan of riding it all the way the Peterborough, a good hours drive from Cambridge by car. I have resisted trying to contact him to see if he made it alright but in my mind he did and it was a grand adventure filled with gnomes and fairies. 
We walked down to Trafalgar Square and then down the Strand to the original Twinings Tea shop. Unfortunately the shop was not quite as charming as I had expected and was fairly crowded for a Sunday morning. We bought a few teas and then promptly hopped back on the Tube (which was Klaus' favorite London activity anyway) and headed for the five floors of Hamley's Toy Store. Even without the impending Christmas holiday I think this amazing store would have been just as packed. It was a child's wonderland filled with every toy imaginable and very enthusiastic and encouraging staff willing to push parents into spending all sorts of money there. We let the kids pick out small items reminding them that they would be required to carry whatever it was home as mommy and daddy's bags could not hold anything else. 
As we had an early start in the morning, after the ballet we took one last Tube ride home, though we got to hear the bells of St. Martin-in-the-Fields play us out as we walked to the station.
Monday morning, our airport cab arrive at 6:30 as scheduled for our 11:30 flight. Now you might think that this 5 hour allotment seems a bit excessive even for an international flight but in this case my obsessive worry about the unexpected was totally justified. Our cabbie, Gregori, was able to fit all our luggage into the BMW SUV he was driving just fine but when it came time to close the boot, the latch would not latch. For a good 15 minutes Gregori tried slamming the door with increasing strength and frustration. While I twiddled my thumbs and Kurt apologized for having previously mocked my over-preparedness, Gregori called his employer and ordered us another car. Amazingly another taxi showed up within minutes and we arrived at the airport only thirty minutes after expected.
Having smallish children we were conducted to British Airways' special Children and Disabled
Check-in lanes where the boys were showered with books and crayons and our definitely over-weight luggage was accepted with helpful smiles. Security was no worse than expected and left us plenty of time for a last Full-English Breakfast at a airport diner, a turn through the Harry Potter store where we used up our cash, and even a small tumble for the kids in the Mr. Adventure playground. I would highly recommend both Heathrow and British Airways for traveling with kids. They were happy as clams for the entire trip home.
Kurt on the other hand was not (although this was no fault of the airline). After breakfast we had both felt a little queasy but chalked it up to both the quantity and quality of the food we had just eaten. But while my bad feelings subsided leaving me to enjoy all the food and treats passed out by the friendly airline staff, Kurt's condition became increasingly distressing to the point where he had the unfortunate experience of trying to vomit in a tiny airplane bathroom. He was no better when we actually landed and nearly passed out while going through customs. It was a pretty poor end for his amazing sabbatical but I think even with that he won't ever regret the experience.
Next sabbatical is in seven years this time. Where shall we go then?
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