38 hours later

posted in England

38 hours later

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There is an absence of pics between me walking down into the Underground and resurfacing because I was (a) trying not to add to my tourist image of tramping bag + suitcase by adding a dslr to the recipe and (b) been warned against doing anything beside watching my luggage like a hawk. So no pics. I just oggled the menswear (tailored, YES – and I don’t mean skinny jeans Sydney Hipsters), the cute houses, the accents and counted the stops until Kings Cross. Random note: everyone here walks at my speed! it’s fantastic.

The PA voice at the stations all sound vaguely JARVIS-ish which is fantastic and is surely calculated this way to brighten everyone’s day. I eavesdropped on an entirely moronic conversation between 3 guys on the topic of gaming devices – and I was not even a little bit bored. ACCENTS.

Anyway. If you even vaguely know me you’ll know how lost-prone I am in Sydney. So to everyone’s surprise (esp mine) I got to where I needed to without a hitch. Not a single wrong-turn was made. I was semi-manically grinning as I dragged my suitcase around in the rain.

london tina sun

view outside my window at 3pm. Look at that angsty sky. Look at the brooding clouds. My 85 would love the light here and I miss it already.

I don’t think it’s really hit me that I’m in London yet – I fully expect/want the squee to start soon but for now all I want is to go to bed. Unfortunately I’m not allowed to until about 9pm – in order to work off my jetlag.Hence this verbose blog post. Future ones will hopefully have 20% the wordcount and ten times the amount of pictures.

for now, I’m off.

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