In 2008, WB and I went on our first trip together: a month-long journey through Italy starting with a quick stop in London to visit his sister. Here is an excerpt from my journal about my first time flying alone, and arriving in London after no sleep. Newly edited, complete with annotations and footnotes!
July 26, 2008
First flight by myself – and seven hours at that. My legs were restless and my shoulder was a pillow to my neighbour. But my heart was a-flutter and the PC Chicken Korma* was better than the usual air-fare (pun intended).
WB, Christoph, and WG on a double-decker bus.
I arrive in London to see WB waiting for me at the airport, wearing shorts. Funny one of the first times I’ve seen him in shorts after dating for four years turns out to be in the notoriously rainy London.
I’ve always imagined being received at the airport by a significant other – a sweeping hug or something. Chickened out in front of the crowd and told WB off for attempting such romance. Performance anxiety.
At a fancy bar in (I believe) Soho.
I end up being awake for over 30 hours, but we managed to get a pasty, have some Pimm’s with WB’s sister (C) and her boyfriend (J), ride a double-decker, and purchase 16-pound (price, not weight!) drinks. J becomes very tired, and imagines he sees a bat on C’s face. We decide it is time to call it a night.
Pricey, but sophisticated, drinks.
Pretending I enjoy the extra shot of vodka our bartender added as a “favour.”
Christoph is tired**. Having not yet attended university, he is not used to all-night-and-then-day-ers.
Sleepy.
Tomorrow, we take in King Lear at the Globe, and then fly to Pisa!*** But first, sleep.
*I was not a pescetarian at the time.
**These were pre-Leonard times. We adopted Leonard from a Salvation Army in 2009.
***You can read about that debacle here.
this is super cute :)
Thanks! :)