I’m home, well it’s sort of home.

I got off the plane to find a dark, gloomy night. London rain filling the skies. Public transport would be out by the time I got half way home. I made the worst decision ever, I slept on the terminal floor with a group of very loud and annoying French Canadians. It seems Air Canada pissed London Heathrow off so they sentenced them to a 6 hour delay. The airport equivalent of purgatory. I didn’t get to sleep until 4am and woke up at 8.30am on the terminal floor alone with the world moving quickly past me. I had intended to be on the first train home. Objective failed.

I took a nice long trip home, the arcitecture getting greyer and more depressing as I moved further into the little slice of hell I call home. I got on the wrong bus for stop or two because I was still heavily jet-lagged. I arrived home to a Birthday Party, drinking and all. Which was nice, the reception was decidedly warmer this time. Maybe it’s good to stay away from home for so long. It was good to be back for about three days. It is nice to see my family but this country has definitely continued on its downhill course. Every time I come back here America is more and more attractive to me. Surely England can’t get any worse.

Misanthropist.

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