37 days? 37 days?
I need to breathe for a moment.
Okay. This will have to be a quick post, as although I'm securely buffered by my Gordon Lightfoot-laden MP3 player, it's very late here and I'm afraid my keyboard tapping may be keeping some very nice people awake. So: I've just came back from three days in Bayswater, London. Yesterday afternoon I walked down Oxford Street to Hyde Park, getting sucked in on the way by a very chatty Ghanan (no damage) and a sale at Primark. That may be the busiest store I've ever had the... experience of visiting. But then from Hyde Park I went past the Long Water and the Serpentine, to the statue of Achilles and the Wellington Arch. There's also a New Zealand War Memorial there, and seeing all those touches of home... Ah, it made me cry. I love our country. :)
Quickly, quietly: Green Park, St James' Park, brass band plays Abba, Trafalgar Square (!!!!) and the National Gallery (outside only), double-decker bus ride through Piccadilly Circus, quick visit back for snazzy English dinner, and then - sunset drive past Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament, on the way to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. Pinch me. I've lost my mind!!!!
Somebody email me quick, before I get committed. How... Should I mention that I've been invited to a (very expensive) three-course meal at the Ritz? On my birthday? *shell-shocked*
Someone? Anyone? Am I still alive???
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