Deciding to take today off was a good decision despite the fact that I feel a bit like I missed out on something vital not documenting this experience with something more than words. My trip from Heathrow is a giant mess of trying not to fall asleep, laughing at the station where "mind the gap" was repeated at two second intervals, and being terrified of some of the gaps that blurred past the window.
Heathrow before that is a bit clearer in my mind, the passport check and customs and even before that the pear shaped woman on the "toilet" signs, which I found hysterical, and the endless amount of walking I insisted in doing because mining walkways and carting luggage makes me nervous.
It's not any of that though that I'm worrying about forgetting. It's the guy selling flowers outside the Tube station, the way none of the streets in this neighborhood run in ways that make sense to me, the greengrocer talking about his new baby, the fruiterer I sat outside of after wandering down the wrong street, the organic cafe tucked in beside sometimes house, the girl with the ice cream commenting on the local ant population, the tens of new foods I would love to try if only I had a kitchen and an endless supply of cash, ducking in and out of shops, smiling at all the pschoanalysis related businesses in the area, listening to the ever changing bubbling of languages and for once picking out the French before the Spanish, wandering through Waitrose feeling dorkiy excited, eating an entire tub of soup and the best egg and bacon salad sandwich ever, getting all my errands done in one day for the first time in months and having time left over to chat with friends.
The list goes on and that doesn't include the quaint streets, the architecture, or the allies with rows of houses.
Needless to say, it was a good day despite the sleep deprivation.
Heathrow before that is a bit clearer in my mind, the passport check and customs and even before that the pear shaped woman on the "toilet" signs, which I found hysterical, and the endless amount of walking I insisted in doing because mining walkways and carting luggage makes me nervous.
It's not any of that though that I'm worrying about forgetting. It's the guy selling flowers outside the Tube station, the way none of the streets in this neighborhood run in ways that make sense to me, the greengrocer talking about his new baby, the fruiterer I sat outside of after wandering down the wrong street, the organic cafe tucked in beside sometimes house, the girl with the ice cream commenting on the local ant population, the tens of new foods I would love to try if only I had a kitchen and an endless supply of cash, ducking in and out of shops, smiling at all the pschoanalysis related businesses in the area, listening to the ever changing bubbling of languages and for once picking out the French before the Spanish, wandering through Waitrose feeling dorkiy excited, eating an entire tub of soup and the best egg and bacon salad sandwich ever, getting all my errands done in one day for the first time in months and having time left over to chat with friends.
The list goes on and that doesn't include the quaint streets, the architecture, or the allies with rows of houses.
Needless to say, it was a good day despite the sleep deprivation.
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