Folk in Lowell & boating in Boston.

Five years of folk. I took a train to meet up with my mother and Riley in Lowell, where we donned our forest green volunteer shirts and began sorting through the compostable externalities of the Lowell Folk Festival. Mom and I have annually volunteered here for half a decade—Riley joined us for the shirt and

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Bus to London & Veeraswamy.

Farewell, English countryside. We left Ampney Crucis today. Jenny—the caretaker who chauffeured us to Cirencester each day—dropped us off at the bus stop, instructed us to leave a good review for the airbnb, and bid us goodbye. We arrived in London and made it over to our hotel in West Kensington to discover that the

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Hitchhiked for the first time.

Giles drove us home. Jenna and I spent the day in Cirencester, a stone village dripping with ivy and teeming with shops and restaurants. On our way back to Ampney Crucis, we persisted along a stretch of road with zero shoulder. We leaped into some variety of rashy prickles to avoid a strand of antique

Turbo ducklings.

“Oh. That’s far.” – everybody. After spending the day working, drinking coffee, and watching the world cup from a bar in Stratford, Jenna and I combed through our options for getting from Stratford-upon-Avon to Ampney Crucis, near Cirencester. In other words, small town England to even smaller town England. Our only option was to take

A rough timeline of a smooth Saturday.

Took the tube into London, where the weather was improbably nice. Picked up salads at Eddie’s Got on the train towards Stratford-upon-Avon, seated across from a gay couple on their way to a wedding. As the train groaned forward along the tracks, they gracefully added bottles of prosecco and orange juice to the table between

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