Tolkien’s Final Journey, and our final leg

With only hours left in England, I had one final goal in mind. Well…two goals. 1) to find Tolkien’s grave, and 2) to get the rental car delivered no later than 11 am so we were not charged for an additional day. Our flights didn’t leave till afternoon, so we were not pressed for time about that.

We left bright and early and decided to find coffee along the way. Maybe because I was getting fatigued after a week of driving, and maybe because I was distracted thinking about the journey home, but I was 0 for 3 on those big roundabouts this morning. You know the ones, with five roads coming into three lanes all exiting in different places. I kept exiting too soon or too late.

In one instance of trying to find a way to turn around and get back on track, we ended up in front of a large gas station convenience store. So we stopped and got breakfast there. The food that we ate in the front seats of the car was surprisingly acceptable.

We found the Wolvercote Cemetery with very little effort. It was hardly out of our way, and thus convenient, as we traveled south to the airport. The problem, then, was …which grave? I read on Atlas Obscura that there were signs to help, but we saw none. There was no reference to Tolkien on any notices posted near the chapel-like building in the center.

I took screen captures of some fan photos from the Atlas Obscura website, and we tried to use the scenery and nearby rooftops to narrow down the spot. We were hopelessly wandering for some time, and would have continued to wander, if it weren’t for a helpful morning jogger. She slowed caught my eye, so I asked if she was local. When that was confirmed, I asked if she knew where the gravestone was. She led me right to it.

The characters of Lúthien and Beren are from an ancient love story in the books. Lúthien is an elven princess and Beren is a mortal man. She gives up her immortality as an elf to commit her life to the mortal Beren. Wikipedia says, “The complex tale of their love for each other and the quest they are forced to embark upon is a story of triumph against overwhelming odds but ending in tragedy.” Their story is told in The Silmarillion, but is mentioned in the Lord of the Rings, and in the movie The Fellowship of the Ring by Peter Jackson.

I was really touched by the amount of personal notes left at the gravesite. So many messages of thanks, and stories of how Tolkien inspired people, how his books brought them back from the brink. There was one 2-paged impassioned letter, begging the author for help in our troubled world today, when people are hurting each other and the Earth. There were many tiny gifts, to include the ones I showed in photos, and also drawings and photos and plastic animals and a bottle of oil?

It was only then that I noticed the several signs pointing to it. But they were not along the path we had followed, and were small and brown and simply had not caught the eyes of either Margaret or me.

We did not hurry, but did not dally, and still cut the time close to return the car. It was scheduled for 10am, but they gave me a grace period of one hour. We pulled into the lot at 10:47 am. Whew! Everything went smoothly and marvelously till we were told there was a dent in the car that had not been there before, and they would need to take $2000 from me till everything was sorted out. WHAT!?!

Yeah, it took the guy a full five minutes to explain to me how to find the dent, which is practically imperceptible. I made him stand where he is in the photo above, so I could get a reflection of a jagged pant leg, in order to show the “dent.” In the US, that would have been ignored by a rental agency. I’ve seen actual scratches, a cigarette burn, and missing paint ignored on a rented car in the US. I asked for him to bring out his supervisor to confirm that this level of “damage” will require a repair. Yes, Yes it will.

Margaret took the shuttle to Gatwick airport, and I stayed behind to do paperwork. *sigh* As of today, June 14th, it’s still pending. Insurance claims are the worst. The staff was really kind and understanding though. I’m mostly just mad it happened, not mad at them. They could see it obviously was not our fault.

Arnold Clark gave me a shuttle ride to Terminal 5. I was in line at security when the most amazing thing happened. Over the loudspeaker, in the middle of Heathrow Airport, trumpets blasted. My mouth probably dropped open, as I gazed in all directions, foolishly looking for the source. All of us passengers looked, wide-eyed, at each other, and at security while the trumpets played. After a minute of sound, the world came to a stop. All the uniformed security agents stood at attention. The conveyor belt hauling bags through the x-ray machine stopped. Fans stopped. Rumbling stopped. Talking stopped. Distant humming stopped. We gaped at each other, actions subdued. Pure silence except for a few birds that flew, chirping overhead. The silence continued.

All quiet in one of the busiest airports in the world!! Silence.

I had no idea what was going on, but the security agents seemed at peace, so I felt reassured. Then, as unexpectedly as the first time, trumpets played once more. The agents became animated once more. The humming and buzzing and rumblings started up. The conveyor belts began carrying bags once again, and things moved. People started to talk. I was astonished. And delighted.

After I picked up my bag, I returned and approached a security person. “What was that?!” I asked. He explained that it was two full minutes of silence at noon, in honor of the 80th anniversary of VE-Day. I am so honored that I was there, and had the opportunity to wait in silence with the country, as the significance of VE Day was remembered.

I had 3 1/2 hours till my flight, so I went to Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant Plane Food, and ordered something to make up for our gas station meal in the morning. It was expensive, but delicious. Before the food came, I ordered an expensive scotch to celebrate a successful journey and return to my beloved Pedro. I ordered a double, neat.

The man who took my order, bless his heart, had no idea what I was talking about. “Double?” he asked. “Do you want ice cubes or crushed?” he asked. After he asked a dozen clarifying questions, I had revised my order to, “Two shots of scotch, in the same glass, with no ice.” “No ice?” “No ice, thank you.” Off he went.

He came back and apologized, “So sorry, ma’am. It would not fit all in a single glass (the shot glass), so the extra is here (the tumbler).” Smack my head. I picked up an empty water glass from the table beside me, and poured all of it into a glass that is the proper size for a double scotch (or a single, if I’m honest). Imagine, serving a $35 scotch in a shot glass plus a tumbler at GORDON RAMSAY’s for gosh sakes. Anyway, it made me laugh and I proceeded to send the photo to Pedro and my brothers, while giggling.

The trip home was over the north pole and since I was chasing daylight, I was able to see below me the entire time. I was fully fascinated with the ice.

One of the movies I watched on the plane purely at random had a scene with The Circus, that I recognized instantly, having been there three days earlier.

And finally, the scenes outside were the mountains that swell my heart each and every time I see them.

I had been flying for many many hours and had stubbornly kept myself awake that entire time. I landed at 5:30pm on the same day I left England, and managed to stay awake till 7:00 pm, then was out cold till the following day.

Thank you for traveling to England with us!! It was a truly excellent trip, even with the dented car. Here’s a bonus: I photographed and identified ten types of birds during our trip, plus two stone chickens, ha ha. I know at least one person was wondering if I’d ever mention the birds.