London.

I made it. The flight was uneventful, full of brits doing distressing glutial excercises to avoid blood clots and help the roast-beef dinner to settle, but on the whole, uneventful. I geuss the real news is that I'm tired...and in London. I landed around midnight my time, and promptly managed to get irrevocably lost on the train lines. Was that West Croyden to Balham to Streatham Commons or Streatham hill? (in the end it was the latter, but I had to travel to Sutton to find that out).

Then I got lost in town, I took the wrong ancient street to the wrong ancient twisty corner (my bad). But the hotel let me check in a little early (noon here, so 4am my time?). A quick power nap and slight perusal of Brittish television encouraged me to head down the street toward this small internet cafe. Next up, the pub. Then bed.

People on the plane kept warning me from travelling in London alone, well that's not true, but they did call me a "Poor dear." and pet my hand as if I didn't know what I was getting into (which arguably I don't) but after initiating the "No touching on the plane please" rule I think I managed to convince them that I'd just have to meet knew people, and one inspirational tyrade about who we are as people and how we are defined by "the other" I think I my case came across.

I've also learned that I don't actually speak english. I know. You're thinking, but Ian, I've heard you speak it, I've heard you butcher it, what are you talking about? We actually speak something not English, real Engligh requires little to no enunciation, is often uttered quickly and at various tones while bobbing ones head and requires a lot of patience (and having seen the first two seasons of "Little Brittain" and "Monty Python") to begin to understand.

Right. Beer time, just wanted to let you know I'm in town and connected (ish).