One Long Sentence
The other week, or one before, I went to America, where there was an extremely awesome Wedding that involved dancing and which was followed by a trip to Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, where there was an ocean that offered opportunities to swim after black fins in the water that I was fairly sure weren't sharks and luckily turned out to be dolphins - WHICH WAS TOTALLY FAB BECAUSE I GOT TO SWIM UP REAL CLOSE - and also offered the opportunities to swim in the ocean, a day later, as what was left of Nearly a Hurricane Fay came in, which was wet and windy and wonderful; however, this then meant having to come home, the dissappointment of which was more than made up for by the wonderful Britishness of the staff on the way back, like the impecably dressed, greying official who looked at our passports with the sort of practiced expressionlesness that makes you wonder if he's thumbing the "send me security" switch underneath the desk, but whose face is actually just normally that way and who tries to be friendly by saying "I assume you've just been on holiday" in a clipped manner that somehow ends the very same conversation the words were attempting to start, and is also more than made up for by the incredible coolness of my flist, which contained such gems as Boris Johnson's ping pong speech (seriously, you tube "Boris Johnson" and "ping pong"; it's hysterical) and Stu's wonderful solution to foreign bullies via the sending of black ops units to take something they value and then not giving it back until they behave, which a) is a teacher's approach if ever there was one and b) invites the question of what could be stolen from Russia that they would value highly: Lenin's tomb, the big black key to the big red button, Rublev's trinity...?
My money is on Putin's teddy bear.
My money is on Putin's teddy bear.