So I HAVE been in England, I just spend the first two days stressed and depressed and out of sorts and then more stressed to write. So, here's the recap!
Let's rewind to Monday- I relaxed in the morning, then headed down to 72nd Street to the Trader Joe's to get JJ's chocolates. I walked up the West Side for a bit and then took the subway up to Columbia. I realized that Grant's tomb was just down the street in Riverside Park and I felt obligated as history major to go check it out.... so I did. It was pretty cool. And yes, Grant is actually buried there! Then I just wandered around Columbia area a little longer and went to St. John again and then crashed. My feet were dead.
Sasha and I watched a few more eps of SVU, joined by Ben for only one. I met up with Andrea no problem and we headed out to the airport. No problems getting on the plane but there was a huge kerfluffle with making sure everyone was on the plane (I say, if you're not there, you deserve to be left behind!) and we were an hour late taking off. I watched "Paul" on the plane- hysterical and Simon Pegg/Nick Frost duo is also a winner.
We arrived at Heathrow to find NO bag. Ugh, horrible feeling. So helpless and annoyed and frustrated and out of control. We headed out to Oxford and I couldn't even enjoy myself I was so upset. The next morning, after loads of phone calls back and forth from various individuals, my bag still wasn't located and I had to resign myself to go down to Primark to get some clothing. I HATE Primark. I hate shopping on a GOOD day and this was a complete nightmare. If I was in TK Maxx, I would have thought I was in a time loop prison sentence like in the Thurday Next books. Ugh.
However, I returned back to the apartment to find an email from Roni that MY BAGS HAD ARRIVED!!!! Hooray! We headed back out to Heathrow, which took like forever and a day, and I finally got my bag. Although they had taken my Fe-breeze and my body spray (why? and if you search my bag, don't you have to tell me? what's the matter with those two things? ugh again!). Anyway, then Andrea and I got on the tube for London. It is a LONG haul from Heathrow to Elephant and Castle, plus a bus down to Peckham. We went to the wrong house but Pete eventually rescued us and was the most generous host ever. He made us dinner, helped us book a cab for the next morning, it was lovely. We got a mere four hours of sleep before getting up to take a cab into Gatwick.
We made it onto the Glasgow flight and I slept for most of it. Googlemaps prevailed again and gave us perfect directions to JJ and John's flat. We spent the morning chatting with JJ- which was LOVELY. After showers and changing and cleaning off the last two days of misery from us, we went to grab some lunch in a sweet little cafe and then Andrea and I went to the Kelvingrove. My favorite thing about the Kelvingrove is that you never know what is behind every corner. Here are a few of my favorite pictures of the day.
From the Kelvingrove, we walked about 15 minutes down to City Centre to George Square. Where there is not a single statue of anyone named George. There is a huge statue of Sir Walter Scott. Go figure. We're back at JJ's now, candles are lit, dinner is in the oven and wine is on the way. Fingers crossed that this is the last of the bad luck we have on the trip and it's all smooth sailing from now on!
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