No, I am not writing from the observation deck of the world's largest oceanliner. Rather, I am a few degrees removed from such luck.

I phoned my old boss George Seay on Monday morning. It's been a while since we spoke. At 65, although full in spirit, he's not a spring lamb. My periodic urges to speak with him since I left Washington have to do not only with my interest in his daily tribulations and triumphs, but also because his chronic physicaly ailments tend to act up a bit around this time of year. Plus, it's always a warm and fuzzy experience talking with George - better than talking with my family a lot of the time.

When I phoned, I ended up leaving a voicemail. He phoned back and did similarly. So here's what he said:

Hi Rachel. I'm actually in New York today. I checked my Dialogue phone messages and saw you called and I wanted to make sure I got back to you before I leave on my voyage. I am about to leave the Princeton Club in about an hour to board the Queen Mary - to sail to England - where I'll be for at least a month. I will call you when I get back. Everything is well here. Much love, enjoy Thanksgiving, and we'll talk very, very soon. All the best. Take care.

I can almost see George now...strolling in his Fedora along the deck, perhaps watching (not playing) a shuffleboard game. Then, upon arrival to the Mother country, taking in afternoon tea at the Ritz, planning a weekend in the Cotswolds, and later taking a ramble through the Tate Modern. Splendid.

At 65, this man knows how to get away from it all. But I wouldn't have chosen England in November. Wet comes to mind. Blustery.