Went with my mother to a Charlotte Smith conference, to sooth her nerves when the phone didn't work, and figure out where we were when my phone could get enough signal to use the map app, and perform other useful tasks like that. I'd picked up that Charlotte Smith was an 18th century author who'd suffered greatly in life at the hands of an abusive husband who had a legal right to any money she made and she couldn't divorce, but didn't know much about her works. Sitting through two mornings of papers taught me a bit about it, as did listening to a chorale and a live performance of parts of a song cycle made from her poetry. But one can only have so much interest in academic essays about an author one has never read.
Both afternoons I skipped out to go for walks. The conference was held at Chawton House, which passed to one of Jane Austen's brothers, and he let his widowed mother and sisters stay in Chawton Cottage, where Jane lived for the final years of her life, and started getting published, so seeing that and her little writing table was a highlight. Sunday we also went on a trip to the house where she grew up; the current owner, who'd written the chorale, let us see the grounds she'd wandered when young. We also saw another house connected to her, now owned by the National Trust, and the church where she was buried. Monday we went to London, and managed to see a museum exhibit and a play. There was a brief scare Tuesday when we were told our plane had been overbooked, but then we got on it.
Mom now talks of not traveling to another conference for a while. The big annual Jane Austen one started in DC today, and neither of us even feel like going to most of it, though I'll drag myself there for a few hours Saturday. Charlotte Smith was apparently an influence on Jane Austen.