Sunday in Manchester

On account of the late night, I didn't wake up until 8:15 this morning. I watched, fascinated, as Marie stuck a knife into the lamb meat and put garlic slices in the holes.

Church was wonderful, Marie bore her testimony about the gospel and she mentioned how she's been thinking a lot this week about all the things that my dad, as a missionary, brought to her life. We've talked several times about all the people his decision to serve affected. Hundreds, from her sisters to their children, to the names that they've gotten in genealogy work and sent to the temple.

I played the piano for the primary, which is always fun. I even got to help the boys color a good Samaritan picture.

Dinner/tea was AMAZING! The stereotype about English food being bland is a bunch of rubbish. We had roasted vegetables (cut up yesterday and soaked in oil and herbs), lamb with garlic and mint sauce, potatoes, and fluffy yorkshire puds. We followed that up with a go with the chocolate fountain. Man, I glutted myself on that (see Marie, "glut" is a word, as I discovered in Boggle). I even tried cheese with it. We had Stilton and Wensleydale and some marvelous Brie and cranberry cheese.

We visited Simon's parents. His mom looks like Geri Snow. I played their piano and taught the family how to sword fight and play Bear, Man, Girl. James showed us his cheating skills in Uno and Skip-Bo.

Tomorrow we're going to go to a chippy, even though it is Jez's opinion that it will only reinforce old stereotypes. I understand what he means: in my mind I compare it to us taking visitors to McDonald's, I would not like that.

I'm so grateful to be with the Viners. I consider them as close as family, and I'm dreading leaving them.