April 18th&19th
The day I flew to London was a month to the day after I made the decision to go. I think that’s what’s the craziest thing about this trip — that I haven’t had time to even come to terms with the fact that i’m going to England, let alone the fact that I’m writing this from England.
Trip was mostly uneventful. Got some sleep on the plane. Listened to a lot of ABBA. Played a lot of spider solitaire. And then I landed.
And then the queue.
The line at passport control was absolutely insane. it was long, and winding, and seemingly unorganized but I got through it eventually. My professor, who had decided to wear a backwards hat the entire trip, was actually stood in front of me at Passport Control and we had a lovely chat, despite the both of us still being half asleep.
But I got through the queue — which took about an hour, mind you — I found Sara by arrivals. And the first thing we did was take a picture to make it concrete that I was in England. Which is crazy.
We drove back to Corby, and I experienced the worst motion sickness i’ve ever felt in my life. Sitting on the wrong side of the car, and driving on the wrong side of the road, really messed with my head and I know I’ll get used to it, but fingers crossed it doesn’t get any worse.
Sara and I went for some groceries, came back home, had lunch, I took a nap, and then we made spaghetti bolognese together, had some supper, and I was left to my own devices. Meaning Netflix, reading, and drinking a little bit of presecco and some tea.
Sara and I have planned out the next few days, including a trip to see my husband’s grave (Shakespeare, we’re going to see Shakespeare’s grave), Cambridge, and possibly see a show in London before I move down to Clapham on Sunday.
I can’t believe i’m here, but I am. I’m here, and I’m jet lagged, and i’m exhausted, but i’m here.
The day I flew to London was a month to the day after I made the decision to go. I think that’s what’s the craziest thing about this trip — that I haven’t had time to even come to terms with the fact that i’m going to England, let alone the fact that I’m writing this from England.
Trip was mostly uneventful. Got some sleep on the plane. Listened to a lot of ABBA. Played a lot of spider solitaire. And then I landed.
And then the queue.
The line at passport control was absolutely insane. it was long, and winding, and seemingly unorganized but I got through it eventually. My professor, who had decided to wear a backwards hat the entire trip, was actually stood in front of me at Passport Control and we had a lovely chat, despite the both of us still being half asleep.
But I got through the queue — which took about an hour, mind you — I found Sara by arrivals. And the first thing we did was take a picture to make it concrete that I was in England. Which is crazy.
We drove back to Corby, and I experienced the worst motion sickness i’ve ever felt in my life. Sitting on the wrong side of the car, and driving on the wrong side of the road, really messed with my head and I know I’ll get used to it, but fingers crossed it doesn’t get any worse.
Sara and I went for some groceries, came back home, had lunch, I took a nap, and then we made spaghetti bolognese together, had some supper, and I was left to my own devices. Meaning Netflix, reading, and drinking a little bit of presecco and some tea.
Sara and I have planned out the next few days, including a trip to see my husband’s grave (Shakespeare, we’re going to see Shakespeare’s grave), Cambridge, and possibly see a show in London before I move down to Clapham on Sunday.
I can’t believe i’m here, but I am. I’m here, and I’m jet lagged, and i’m exhausted, but i’m here.
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