Wednesday and Thursday
Whelp, I checked in at work on Wednesday, and then got on the road to LAX in my very used Avis car, for the overnight flight to Heathrow. Vaguely worried about various British Airways calamities, yet not too worried; this is a big old nonstop A380 flight and there's a half dozen a day headed up and over to soon-to-be-non-Europe. Chris had scoped out the seat--76A, upper deck in the back, and I scooped it up the previous night right as checkin opened--and it did not disappoint; it was a window seat with a shelf, and a bin under the shelf that fit my minimal carryon sack wonderfully. I managed to sleep 7 hours out of the 10 hour flight.
London was sunny and warm (the Brits, of course, called it 'hot'), and oddly there was no one in the You're A Loser immigration queue, the one where you're not EU or UK or FastPass or Biometrically Enhanced, well, except half a dozen Japanese who did not speak English and who were confused when they were shuffled away. Landing to Baggage Claim took 25 minutes, and then wait wait wait wait wait, the bags took 45 to come out--though mine was in the first six, even before priority tagged bags, hahaha. I have no class (or status). A fashionplate couple with matching Chanel carry-on bags (what?) and white linen shorts/skirt/suit jacket and glowing orange skin gave me the stink eye as I pushed through them; they were no doubt thinking they were #1.
Tube to Covent Garden, exit past the sunglasses shops and left past Zara and 300m on to the flat. Welcome drinks, ah, G&Ts with a slice of (ahem) gherkin (delicious), a hot shower, a three cat welcome. Jon and Paul joined for dinner, tasty but it was feeling like a mid-morning second breakfast so I did not join the Clean Plate Club, yet I still had my dessert, yum. Tired and to bed at 10pm, woke up at midnight and decided to dose myself with the one melatonin concoction that I've found works... and then I slept in until noon. OK, body was a bit tired.
Fed the cats. What now? Uh, cash and nibbles. Wandered up to little Waitrose to buy something small so the credit card company doesn't freak out. Had a sad-but-guiltily yummy sandwich at Pret, old habits die hard. Walked past the British Museum with the intention of going in, but the security kabuki was in full effect with white tent in the forecourt and a few hundred people in line along the outer fence to get into the white tent so they could wait again to get back to the main entrance, so no. Wandered about for a bit, a beer at the Duke of Wellington which also felt mandatory but sad, then a bit of a gurgly tummy sent me scurrying back to the flat. North American intestinal fauna meets European intestinal fauna.
I'm not particularly feeling very into London at the moment as anything more than a stopover and a place to gather my thoughts and (once again) repack my pack. I'm getting into that "time to focus" mode, and not so interested in news or Facebook or anything, there's a very defined path ahead to consider for the next three weeks and I need to get in that groove. I decided to eliminate the constant stream of distractions, particularly distressing and negative ones, so I nuked various apps off my iPhone: New York Times, Facebook, Twitter. I don't really care to engage with the outside world (but don't mind sharing to connect with like-minded individuals.)
Decided to read a bit more on the route (good to feel hyperfocused and directionful), then dosed myself again to sleep at 8:15pm.