Well, here I sit in terminal 1 of Heathrow airport, which bears a striking similarity in general atmosphere to pre-renovation Midway, except there are a lot more people wandering around with pints in their fists. Also, in my brief acquaintance with English authorities, I find their signage to be quite directive and – dare I say it – a little bossy, though all the people I’ve talked to have been quite friendly.

The flight was fine – Bro, bless him, gave me a ride to the airport which was really awesome of him and kept me from having to lug my 43lb suitcase on the bus and then the train. (Why 43lbs? Winter travel … had to upgrade from the carry-on size to be able to pack anything but sweaters to what I think of as my Africa suitcase – because I bought it to go there, not in reference to its size, but it is large, just like that continent).

We arrived more or less on time and I promptly went through customs and security due to a wrong turn (which I almost spelled tern … eee…I’m not sure blogging on a couple hours sleep is going to make for the best reading, but by golly I am finishing out NaBloPoMo), so I have walked around Heathrow quite a bit now. I’m finding the other side of the road thing has implications for all situations which require movement; people here seem to naturally gravitate toward the left, as one might expect, which is keeping me on my toes in my current state of quasi-sleep-deprival.

In fact, I just caught myself sitting here thinking ‘hmmmmmmmmmm’… so I think I will make this short. The funny thing about long flights is that I manage always to forget how desperately one wants to change and shower afterward – which is the true downside of the connecting flight, sitting in one’s rumply clothes around a bunch of people who are clearly fresh. I also had a frightening run-in with a mirror – phew! Won’t be doing that again for a while.

Random wrap-up:

  • I’m already feeling a bit lost without my phone, which means it was probably not a bad idea to leave it at home.
  • I read the newest Alexander McCall Smith, Love Over Scotland (from the 44 Scotland Street series) – excellent.
  • The guy at customs asked me what I planned to do in Ireland to which I replied, rather stupidly, “Er, driving around.” Nice. Score one for the US of A there.

I guess I should eat lunch, but I’m loath to do anything else that might slow down the old processor, and I feel like all I’ve done since about 6pm EST last night was squirm in a seat, then eat. Then squirm in a seat, eat some more. You get the picture. Incredibly I think I may be hungry again, and there will be no dinner for at least six hours so if I must drive about I suppose I should fortify myself. Also I have two hours to kill.

Alright folks, here’s hoping I’ll be able to post again from the road, since that’s when things are likely to get interesting, but at the very least, it’s been an interesting month of posting every day. TTFN —