Admitting I’m Wrong–Sort Of

My husband and I will be married for four years this coming June, and for possibly the very first time, he has gotten his way.  We bought a house across the street from my mother and 100 yards from my work.  I have made him the official ‘doer of dishes’ and ‘carrier-in-er of groceries’.  I planned this crazy trip and he happily followed along, even going so far as to occasionally take part in the planning, complete with actual enthusiasm.  So I feel it is only fair that he picks some–nay, many–of the things we do on said trip.  I’ve already devoted an entire day to the British Museum at his request; I hate to admit it, but he’s probably right about our need for that much time, even considering our short stay in London.  I’ve also been rather laissez-faire with the Paris planning, honoring his desire to “just sit in a park and eat cheese”.  And just now, right before I wrote this, I booked the day trip of his choosing.  We will officially be spending one day on a small-group day trip from London to Stonehenge, Bath, and Lacock.

It hurts me to say this, but really he…was…right.    I really did not think that Stonehenge was the best option–in fact, I felt it was the worst option.  I read lots of reviews of Stonehenge–and even typing that now I realize how insane that sounds, because really, who can review an experience like that?  And many of the ‘reviews’ were very, very bad.  It is boring, many people said.  It was small, many people said.  To be fair, it is quite possible that those people did not know what they were looking at.  A student of mine gave me his ‘review’ of Rome–it was ok, he said, but ‘everything was broken’.  Ha!

So I then did hours of research on different ways to visit the various areas that we are both interested in–you know, to avoid Stonehenge entirely and thus get my way–and, well, this trip is THE BEST OPTION.  Wow–it actually hurts to type that.  But it is true.  We talked a lot about our one day outside of London.  Our top three choices were Bath, Oxford, and Stonehenge; we’d prefer a small group tour, and he really wanted to see Stonehenge with a private ‘inner circle’ tour.  He wanted to go to Stonehenge, and I wanted to go to Oxford; we both wanted to go to Bath.  How we ended up with his first and second choice and my second and (absolute) last choice is beyond me.  Perhaps my only-child powers are failing me.

It could be that.  That or the fact that I’ve wanted to see Stonehenge since I was a little girl.  I had those Time-Life ‘Mysteries of the Unknown’ books that featured places like that, and I used to sit on my orange swivel rocker and page through them when I was in third grade.  It could be that I’ve been actively pagan since I was 22 years old, and the idea of visiting a place like that actually makes me want to cry.  That or the fact that I know that I have a day and a half after returning to London from Barcelona to visit Oxford.  And maybe Stratford, too.  Ahhh…there she is.  Only child is back.  Long may she reign.

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