Dear Chroniclers,I'm delighted to report our safe return from adventures "across the pond", replete with capacious suitcases, carrier bags and general trunkage, all of which bulge visibly at the seams with trophies from our visit.
Spoils of war
Mrs electrofried bears home a country mileage of printed cotton material and three gloriously elaborate hand-stitched quilts. Another is to follow shortly.
Meanwhile, teenygoth's single-minded attack on our ever-shrinking bank balance has yielded several t-shirts, two pairs of ripped jeans and some bizarre pastel-coloured pumps she refers to lovingly as her "Converses", though converse to what is not immediately apparent to yours truly.
For my part, a box of carefully exposed glass plates has already been despatched to Little Wittering's only 24/7 film processing mini-lab'n'phrophylactic dispensary.
Oh, and the new pants probably need a clean, even though I took great care to turn them inside out every other day, as duly instructed by mrs electrofried.
A promise fulfilled
Twenty years ago the good lady and I planned a tour of America. Books had been purchased, itenaries organised and then ...
It fell to Dr Phlegm, physician to the electrofrieds and a close family friend, to break the news. He arrived with his dear wife, Dabs the Artiste, early one Saturday evening. Maximouse and our six month old son, reallyfried were safely bedded when he sat us both down on the sofa to break the news.
We never had the heart to make the tour once we'd found out reallyfried was mentally handicapped, as such conditions were called then.
But now, with reallyfried a proud householder in his own right, we can venture out once more. The promise is fulfilled - and we've made the journey across the pond. And oh, what adventures we've had!
The story begins
We owe it all to "Simply Quilters X-treme", the weekly publication of choice for mrs electrofried. Secreted amongst the small-advertistry for crochet-swapping and embroidered swingers she located an intriguing invitation to join a quilting party for a tour of Pennsylvania.
Given this is the year of the plumply-rounded birthday for the love of my life, what else could I do but write out a series of not insubstantial cheques and await the arrival of three cattle-class airline tickets.
Pastings to come
It all seems like a dream, but may I extend a cordial invitation to join me on a journey to the backroads of Pennsylvania. Over the next few pastings we'll:
- learn something of the Amish community;
- visit the battle-fields of Gettysburg;
- reflect on strange eating habits;
- be glued to a hard wooden bench, mesmerised by an eight hour quilt auction; and
- observe the grace of God as a terrible tragedy unfolds.
The definition of time
As you might expect, the stories to come will be accompanied by various glassy-plated Dagguerotypes - you may even encounter the occasional gallery along the way.
But there will be something missing from my casual and badly constructed holiday snaps - the people who lie at the very heart of Pennsylvania. A people who were thrust involuntarily and tragically into the spotlight of the world media; a people of great grace and love who are known as the Amish. They hold literally to the commandment not to make graven images and I respect their beliefs.
This pasting and those to follow are dedicated prayerfully to their witness.
with best regards,
electrofried (mr)
