I wake early. I can't sleep. I have three things to do as soon as 9 AM arrives. 1: meet the nice people renting our house. 2: get some cheques to the bank 3: Forward my mailing address for a year. My parents are away on holiday and we are staying in their house. They turn the heat down in the hot water tank when they are away, this fact comes to me suddenly, in the shower. I save time by showering quickly and when Holly is ready we bolt out of there. We have to be back by 10:30 to leave for the airport.
We get to the post office and find that forwarding your mail for a year is a whopping $140. Next we go to our house and the peaple haven't arrived yet, I guess we won't meet them until next year. I forgot the cheques by leaving so fast, so back to my parents we go. Bank and back. It's now 10:15, time to leave in 15 minutes. Panic. My head is a comlete fog. I can barely function. Nancy decides that I should drive.
We make a relatively crash free trip to the airport and more family is there to send us off. This is very nice. It is starting to seem like I will be gone for a year. Panic. Goodbyes are said and we enter the airport security, things go normal (eye roll) and we load onto the plane. We take off and the flight is long and boring with boring movies, food and scenery.
We land at Gatwick, deplane (its the correct term, really) and head to customs. Two customs agents later they stamp our passports. We pick up our bags and have to choose between two doors "nothing to declare" and "stuff to bring in". After some soul searching I choose "nothing to declare" and we walk in. They trust Canadians apparently.
A quick bathroom stop and we will find the express train to London. I know Holly has spoiled this earlier but it is a funny moment. We are in the UK for ten minutes and her purse is left on the airplane. I want everyone to know I was very supportive and understanding. I knew when to keep my trap shut. An unexpected bonus is that I have some kind of super "get out of jail free" card that I can use later when my blunder occurs.
We take a train to London leave our bags at Victoria station ($32 pounds) and try to get transit passes called Oyster cards. This sucks. Total duration, two lineups and three eons. We eat a nice fish and chip lunch at a pub, I drink a watered down Guiness (I could tell, Mr. Bartender) and we pick up our bags and head to the apartment. Nice looking place, we are five stories up, no lift. I carry all the bags up. Its too much and I need sleep NOW. I manage to stay awake to 6 PM and crash.
We get to the post office and find that forwarding your mail for a year is a whopping $140. Next we go to our house and the peaple haven't arrived yet, I guess we won't meet them until next year. I forgot the cheques by leaving so fast, so back to my parents we go. Bank and back. It's now 10:15, time to leave in 15 minutes. Panic. My head is a comlete fog. I can barely function. Nancy decides that I should drive.
We make a relatively crash free trip to the airport and more family is there to send us off. This is very nice. It is starting to seem like I will be gone for a year. Panic. Goodbyes are said and we enter the airport security, things go normal (eye roll) and we load onto the plane. We take off and the flight is long and boring with boring movies, food and scenery.
We land at Gatwick, deplane (its the correct term, really) and head to customs. Two customs agents later they stamp our passports. We pick up our bags and have to choose between two doors "nothing to declare" and "stuff to bring in". After some soul searching I choose "nothing to declare" and we walk in. They trust Canadians apparently.
A quick bathroom stop and we will find the express train to London. I know Holly has spoiled this earlier but it is a funny moment. We are in the UK for ten minutes and her purse is left on the airplane. I want everyone to know I was very supportive and understanding. I knew when to keep my trap shut. An unexpected bonus is that I have some kind of super "get out of jail free" card that I can use later when my blunder occurs.
We take a train to London leave our bags at Victoria station ($32 pounds) and try to get transit passes called Oyster cards. This sucks. Total duration, two lineups and three eons. We eat a nice fish and chip lunch at a pub, I drink a watered down Guiness (I could tell, Mr. Bartender) and we pick up our bags and head to the apartment. Nice looking place, we are five stories up, no lift. I carry all the bags up. Its too much and I need sleep NOW. I manage to stay awake to 6 PM and crash.
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