… of many trips, I’m sure. And not even the first, really, because how many times have I been to London? I don’t even know anymore. Three? Five? Something like that.
Anyway, here’s the thing: we weren’t there as tourists. I had fun, as I generally do when I get to be alone with my husband and outside of the daily routine, but we didn’t See Stuff. We drove a lot, since we flew into Stansted to save money (that was a mistake, Stansted airport is a dump. The only airport I’ve ever seen that was that ugly was Ushuaia’s, and that was only because they were constructing it around us as we waited for our flight) and had to drive halfway around the city to get to… well, everything. Our friends in Windsor, our temporary flat in Slough, the college in Egham, the flat we’d come to see about renting in Virginia Water… also, we got lost a time or two. And the whole driving-on-the-left thing (and occasionally not driving on the left, to the very great alarm of the other drivers) was um, hair-raising. Continue reading