|The last dusk. Sigh.|
My first thought on waking to our last day in the UK was:
‘Holy crap did she set off the smoke alarm again?! That’s the third time!’
But it was just the obnoxious alarm clock going off like a banshee. Theoretically, I could have slept for another half hour but it was never going to happen after that adrenaline rush.
|The last dawn.|
Via taxi, train and tube, we made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, so we went to eat at the restaurant Gordon Ramsay has in Heathrow, named Plane Food. My dad is a fan of some of Ramsay’s shows so more than anything it was to amuse him.
|There was a spicy ketchup for the fish that didn’t make it in the picture.|
The food was good, though not the best I’ve had on this trip. The mushy peas were surprisingly delicious – they lacked that overwhelmingly sweet peaishness that is, well, the thing I don’t like so much about peas.
And those polenta sticks. I want to know how to make those polenta sticks. Oh.
Then home again with barely enough room to breathe in the plane seats. By the time I got in the door I had been awake for, I think, nineteen or twenty hours. It was a full twenty-four by the time I got to bed.
When are we going to get instantaneous teleportation devices? I’m waaaiting….
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