Grand Tour

National Review, Sept 12, 2005 by John Derbyshire

The tour wasn't all child-centered. Having for some time had the idea to write a long magazine piece on Charles Kingsley, the Victorian novelist and naturalist, I stopped off at his Hampshire church to take a look. I have now gazed upon the dish from which vegetables were served to the author of The Water Babies. In another spot of literary tourism, while visiting the Spanish Steps, we climbed up to the little apartment overlooking them, the one in which John Keats died. And then there was the Galleria Borghese. I had somehow got through the larger part (I suppose) of my life without ever seeing Bernini's Apollo and Daphne up close, in spite of having been moved, at an early age, by Sir Kenneth Clark's description of the piece. Omission rectified: We gazed at the figures from every angle, overwhelmed--even the kids, I think-by its tremendous perfection.

And after it all, we arrived back home without mishap! All boxes checked, all sights seen, all relatives embraced. Like a military operation. Yes, I am smug about it--and very glad I don't have to think about vacations for another nine months.