for another glass of wine, i'll think of England this time
Sunday 27 May / Monday 28 May
Packed and caught the train with time to spare. I flew out of Newark airport, which was considerably faster, cheaper, and easier for me to get to than JFK. After killing several hours at the terminal (security never takes as long as I think it will) I began a long, boring overnight journey. I almost fell asleep once but was jostled awake by the in-flight movie preview blasting over the speakers, so I ended up spending most of the 7 hour flight leaning my head against the wall of the plane with my eyes closed trying to get some rest. When that plan failed I made light conversation with the nice woman seated next to me (a British expat living near Detroit). I opted for a cup of coffee as the beverage cart came around just before landing so I wouldn't be a complete zombie when I had to fend for myself.
I had it in my mind that we'd be flying completely over water, so I got very excited when I saw a rugged green coastline passing under us. (At first I thought it was Cornwall, but it turned out to be Ireland.) For some reason "Is It Wicked Not to Care?" by Belle & Sebastian began playing in my head.
As we began our descent I saw a very large number of cows and sheep, lots of pretty farms and pasture land, and what appeared to be a thatched roof.
We disembarked; I changed currency (£178 for $400? uhh, okay...), picked up my suitcase, and got on the shuttle bus from the airport to Temple Meads, the main train station in Bristol. Tim was waiting outside for me when I got there, and I was so excited to see him that I laughed aloud and bounded off the bus, completely forgetting that I had my suitcase in the compartment under the passenger seating. I realised it was missing a few minutes later when it was unexpectedly easy to pass through the turnstile. Tim called Gemma to make arrangements for the rest of the day and I took pictures as we waited for our train.
We got to our stop, he showed me around his neighbourhood, blah blah blah this part is a blur because I was sleep-deprived with caffeine coursing through my veins (black coffee on an empty stomach = NOT A GOOD IDEA). I think we dropped my things off at his house, said hi to the housemates who were there, and placed a call to the airport to ask about my suitcase. Somewhere along the line I had a minor crisis because I had to pee but couldn't decide whether it would sound less stupid for me to be American and call it the bathroom or to attempt British colloquialisms and call it the loo. (Tim's housemate Janie offered a neutral solution: "Shitter!") We later went for a walk through nearby St Andrews park, and when that didn't burn off my nervous energy I attacked Tim with several bear hugs.
After another call to the shuttle people I started to crash, so I took a nap until Gemma arrived at the house.
To be continued, seeing that I'm crashing right now...