I am currently subjecting myself to a terrible flaky baked twist thing of the chocolate variety. Blargh.
Anyway, hello from Cardiff! I have finally finally gotten here after defeating three Nazgul, forging a river, outsmarting Saruman's uruk hai army, and breaking down the doors of Baradur...as you can tell I'm extremely disappointed they don't show Lord of the Rings on the plane. If there is ever a better time for four hour movies, I don't know what it could be. I was seriously lamenting this oversight on this particular flight because there was nothing that even remotely held my interest. Except for How to train your dragon, that is just adorable. But even I can't watch that more than once in a 24-hour period, and it's only an hour and a half long! I somehow miraculously made it to Bangkok without falling asleep, and then promptly passed out on the second leg of the flight. Six hours uninterrupted, which isn't bad. Would've liked a bit more, but that's kept me functioning at least. From there it was the joyful struggle of getting my luggage on a peak hour tube to Victoria, and then onto a three hour bus here, for my arrival an hour ago. My legs may never forgive me for this.
I have met some fabulous people on this little sojourn though, which has made all the travelling much more interesting. While on layover in Bangkok a Scottish guy struck up a conversation and we accumulated an Irish girl and an older Aussie woman for spirited conversation that certainly brightened up a humid midnight waiting room. I befriended a woman on her first trip to London while waiting in line for the sole working bathroom in business class, and later ran into her and her friend at the tube station. On the bus over here, I somehow got into a really philosophical discussion with this random dude after he asked me to watch his baggage that soon roped in the lady sitting next to me - she then spent the three hour trip regaling me with stories and/or tips on what to do around here as she saw fit. I have been asked for directions, which makes me feel quite proud of myself (tourists don't think I'm a tourist, yay! lol), have been given a phone number, and Neil Gaiman's twin wanted me to tell him what zone Euston station was in as he had forgotten his glasses.
All this in thirty hours with six hours sleep, and no access to basic luxuries such as showers. Hmmm. Shoooower. Speaking of, best hop to it and get out there. Things to do!
Oh wait, before I forget, I have to point out for the record that it was ten degrees when I got off the plane this morning. I still saw people in t-shirts, but I mean really, ten! Where is this thing called summer? It's a bit warmer here, but certainly not worthy of leaving a jacket behind.
Music: Wind rattling my window