The swimming life of Marcia Benjamin

After London we went to the Shetland Islands, home of the eponymous ponies, an hour's flight from the northern tip of Scotland.  Shetland is composed of several islands, with the largest one (Mainland) budding off in several directions like a rose bush in the spring.  The northernmost islands are remote (Yell, Fetlar, and Unst) and are only served by ferry service, while the other ones are connected by short bridges or are very close, with hourly RoRo service (roll on, roll off for cars).  Orkney and Fair Isle are short plane flights away to the south (in eight-seat, perhaps home-made aircraft, that is expensive, barfy travel).  You can also journey to Orkney, Fair Isle, and Shetland by ferry from Aberdeen, and most people do -- though a 12-hour trip through the North Sea is not exactly the Queen Mary. We were in Shetland to see Up Helly Aa, the pride-of-the-island fire festival held every year on the last Tuesday in January.  Shetland isn't so much Scotland -- ...

The unexpected aneurism in the wife of one of my swimmers, and the Chevy Chase-like vacation of my cousin made for some deep thinking.  Well, I don't really do deep.  But I know what I want, now. The swimmer and his wife were just about to set off on a three-month adventure in the Far East, young kids in tow, when their trip -- and their lives -- were changed forever.  The cousin didn't have a life-changing event on her trip.  But she and her husband saved for years to see France, and then they selected a tour that must have been dreamed up by a six-year-old with a birthday party agenda.  I want balloons!  And cake!  And a piñata!  And games!  They saw like ten things a day riding on a bus with strangers and a tour guide, for a week, managing to somehow cover almost all of the country's hot spots in one memory-blurring crush.  And to top it off, they both ended up with Covid. The swimmer's wife is hospitalized now, making small gains eac...