This morning isn’t as calming to wake up to and a bit emotional, as Caleb has an appointment at the Bahrain Specialist Hospital after being seen at medical. I’m assuming he’ll be fine once they adjust his thyroid medication. The corpsman (enlisted member of the ship’s medical unit) was concerned and had Caleb sent out for another opinion. Having to wait to learn more, I can go about my day.

I’m outside at 7 am and feel better after saying hi to two people and a puppy. The cafe has no hot egg sandwiches left, so I settle for an egg mayo sandwich and jog across the street to catch the bus. I get dropped off at Bond St. after a twenty-minute traffic delay. This will allow me some walking before my next ride. Every day is an adventure, as my route is never the same.

I pass by a horse sculpture that has been provided for visual enjoyment by the local community and not for climbing. The Queen unveiled this bronze worker in 1985, one of the many animal statues made by Judith Bluck throughout London. My starting commute only took two hours. It turns out I was going the right way yesterday and thought I went to the wrong Lidl (German grocery store), but the path runs along the shopping plaza, so I skipped part of Section 8.

I enter Horsenden Hill, and the path will take me about halfway through the park, going east, then north, and back west a bit before exiting the park and going north again. This route will have me passing fields along the river and then walking through grazing meadows and woods intermittently. I enjoy the sound of the little black birds with white foreheads and beaks (Eurasian coot) that they clap together, going down the river.

Horsenden Hill has flint tools and arrowheads that date back 7,000 years ago, when Stone Age nomads were passing through. Iron Age people settled here 2,500 years ago and left behind large amounts of pottery. The Anglo-Saxons cleared the forests to create fields that, in the Middle Ages, would be growing wheat, rye, barley, and corn. In 1801, the canal enabled hay to be shipped to London, and manure returned to the hill. This encouraged new factories and faster trade with the Midlands. As I’m nearing the park exit, I’m graced with the iridescent blue of a yellow-billed magpie.

Near the Sudbury Hill underground station, an ambulance gave me disposable gloves so that I could move a shaking and bloody-nosed rat to the grass. I hope his life works out, but if not, he’s out of the way. I stop for a plate of dal, cauliflower, eggplant, spinach, and paneer on rice (instead of with paratha) for $5, the best deal in London. On West St. in Harrow is a fountain that replaced a well and that was donated in 1880 by Thomas Hudson, a local businessman.

Harrow has some beautiful buildings, and I will admire their church and university before taking The Ducker Footpath to Northwick Park. I stop at a shop for coconut water and some limited-edition candies near The Windermere. There’s a sticker nearby that says Film Only. (@harryfconway, if you’re interested in mostly old men with tattoos, not all of them are agreeable). I make it to Preston Road station before the blue sky turns gray and presents a double rainbow. It starts to sprinkle, and though I was hoping to meet Daniel, the local Jamaican, I’m glad for a dry ride back.

The trains are smooth but screechy, and not sure where I saw the book, but I wrote down the title, Dark Side of the Mind, to look into later. It’s written by a forensic psychologist in an attempt to understand the brutal actions of convicts. I made a connection in Brent, the Borough of Cultures, in 2020, a program that celebrates their unique character, people, and heritage. Waltham Forest won the first year, and the school and volunteer involvement with employment opportunities has increased the creative economy of London for locals and tourists.

The initiative has led to other programs being established to increase public space for free events and artist residencies and to revitalize the high streets (central retail thoroughfare) after dark. I’ll grab a pita stuffed with sweet potato falafel and halloumi for the walk home. Caleb’s appointment was supposed to be three hours ago, and he’ll call me after his medical adventure to tell me that the doctor thinks he had a micro-seizure.

Caleb hangs up with me after I mention Sparky, calls his chief engineer, and then calls me back. I don’t want to get into the research of this condition until we get a second opinion, and we would give Caleb the anti-seizure medication that we didn’t offer our dog. I still miss both of them so much. Dad and Caroline are worried that riots will soon start here as they have in other European countries faced with another lockdown. I will take each day as it comes.

Update: It will take Caleb getting stationed at Balboa Hospital in San Diego for six months before the doctors realize that he was just tired from being overly motivated (even though he didn’t make Master Chief). One doctor read his chart upside down or backward and ordered a sleep study with sleep and no sleep and couldn’t decide on the results. It was a messy time, and we hoped to go back overseas, but some things aren’t meant to be.