Clio's London Journal, day 1: Thursday 16 January

[jlh]

Wednesday a crazy day at work. Run, run, run to get as much done for The Man as possible before I make my escape. Finally run out of building around 6pm. Jump onto bus, head for train station.

Now, I am not afraid of flying, but travelling makes me nervous. I have a lot of anxiety about making the plane, having everything I'll need, all that sort of thing. Usually I cannot sleep at all the night before I travel. (This is only pleasure travel--business travel, I could give a fuck.) But Tuesday night I had slept--I packed early, I was okay. But on the way to the airport all that anxiety comes crashing onto my shoulders. So I do what any girl would do: I spam Nancy and best friend C with text messages.

Finally make it to the airport where cute agent lets me carryon everything (it's not much, two small bags) and I'm off to the gate. Eat the dinner I brought with me and talk to Nancy and C, then get on plane. As soon as I sit down, all anxiety flees. Love Virgin, love the little gift bags, will never fly anyone else. Seatmate cute in a scruffy Jamie Oliver kind of way. He promptly turns his monitor to football and shakes his head and such like a true fan.

As I did not stay up the night before, I do not manage much sleep on the plane. Instead I ogle naked boys in Vanity Fair and InStyle and read about Catherine Zeta-Jones in People. I snooze. I listen to "gay music" on the in-flight radio. I eat fish in a white wine sauce. I wake up and eat the yogurt I brought along. Seatmate and I chat. I fill out landing card and give friend W's old Notting Hill address as it is the first one that comes to mind and hey, it's a real address so who cares. We land. I am glad I have £65 left over from my trip in May so I don't need to change any money.

Customs goes like a breeze. Long trek through Heathrow to Express to Paddington. Once at Paddington, I call marysiak's flat to let AliCas know I have arrived. There is no answer. As my flight was a bit late, I think, well, maybe they left the flat for the tube station. I check the map and get on tube.

I arrive at the correct stop and call again. No answer. I worry. I call again. No answer. I am very worried indeed. I call Marysia's cell and get directions to her flat, deciding that if all have mysteriously t00bed off I can find a sandwich shop to sit in, but really thinking there is something wrong with the phone. I get to the flat and voila! I am nearly smothered by a worried AliCas who were wondering why I hadn't called. I manage to set my things down in the kitchen and meet anatsuno, who is direct and no bullshit just like the other Gauls of my acquaintance. I am much cheered.

We soon get hungry and wander off in search of sustenance. Then back to the flat to await Marysia, who had a BAD day at work. We connect with some others and then head out for Indian food. We find petulance but altricial and tobymalfoy have gone missing. They do find us eventually--in an absolutely FRIGID cellar room of the Indian restaurant. We manage to scare away a couple that had been seated there, and get the room to ourselves. Dinner is really not bad at all, but I am getting really tired.

We return to the flat and stay up talking about many things, the topic of the hour/day/month or something, then Anatsuno goes off with Anna, Toby and Greg and the rest of us go to bed.

And the evening and the morning were the first day.

Comments

[aome.livejournal.com]

Did you ever figure out why you weren't able to reach AliCas by phone?

Hmmm... and here I was thinking British Airways did a darn fine job. But VA sounds better. ;)

[jlh.livejournal.com]

We never did figure it out, actually. It was working later, as Marysia called wondering what was going on.

BA is very nice. But Virgin is better.