But There's No Place Like London!
WHO: Dewi, Arthur, and Angel Bob
WHEN: Tuesday June 1st, 13:31, or for you Liberty folk - 8:31 am Shut up. It works.
WHERE: Liberty? No, this is London, England, at a lovely eatery called Pret A Manger outside of King's Cross Station.
WHAT: Distressed by the appearance of a weeping Angel, the author in distress calls upon THE DOCTOR his half-brother, using his frequent flier miles and not paying $1313.20 for a ticket, to help pay for the expense of ferrying the heavy statue back to Liberty. Dewi has other plans.
I have sailed the world, beheld it's wonders...
From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru,
But there's no place like London!
"Except for Swansea, o'course."
The Welshman fiddled absentmindedly with his Undergrounds ticket as he sat in the train leading out of London Airport. The green-flagged ticket, pinched between his forefinger and middle finger, looked more colorful than the passing adverts for swimwear and the World Cup; an elderly man sat adjacent to him with the morning paper cascading his face, but his hoary hands gave his age away. All passengers bore a uniform baggage, all similarly plaid, their pockets and purses bulging in rectangular shapes where their passports sat, snug against their legs and their cellulars. He smiled at them the tourists pleasantly while he passed through border checks quick as Angel Bob followed Arthur through Piccadilly - the Welshman, citizen of the UK and born in St. David's hospital in Cardiff (the same one that bore his name), passed before the Texan tourists bickering about their long flight, even though Dewi sat comfortably in an economy seat with a blindfold hugging his eyelids.
He wished he had a paper to read, and settled with reading the front article UN Members Decry Gaza Boat Deaths until the morning light subsided and made way for the artificial, mute darkness of the tunnels. Faces blurred, waiting to board the train Dewi rode as he gathered his baggage and stepped off of the train and onto the platform. The voice behind him kindly reminded Dewi to Mind the Gap please as he vanished into the intermingling crowds with a rolling suitcase at his heels - not plaid, but dark blue, and bearing only a few days' clothes unlike the Texan tourists a few platforms back.
A quick transfer through flights of staircases, repeated adverts for swimwear and the World Cup, a final and more grueling staircase, and he came eye-to-eye with a sky of monochrome white - the default for London. American tourists to his right caught the attention of a guard to ask directions to Buckingham. A man to his left breathed out a cloud of smoke and moved toward the parallel street. Dewi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scanned the unfamiliar faces until a certain pair of furrowed eyebrows caught his attention.
With all of the noise, he had no choice but to approach his two-inch dwarfed half-brother with a ginger smile because, after almost ten hours of traveling to airports and flying red-eye flights and riding the Underground, it was nice to see a familiar face. "I believed for the slightest second there that you'd forget I was coming."
WHEN: Tuesday June 1st, 13:31, or for you Liberty folk - 8:31 am Shut up. It works.
WHERE: Liberty? No, this is London, England, at a lovely eatery called Pret A Manger outside of King's Cross Station.
WHAT: Distressed by the appearance of a weeping Angel, the author in distress calls upon THE DOCTOR his half-brother, using his frequent flier miles and not paying $1313.20 for a ticket, to help pay for the expense of ferrying the heavy statue back to Liberty. Dewi has other plans.
I have sailed the world, beheld it's wonders...
From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru,
But there's no place like London!
"Except for Swansea, o'course."
The Welshman fiddled absentmindedly with his Undergrounds ticket as he sat in the train leading out of London Airport. The green-flagged ticket, pinched between his forefinger and middle finger, looked more colorful than the passing adverts for swimwear and the World Cup; an elderly man sat adjacent to him with the morning paper cascading his face, but his hoary hands gave his age away. All passengers bore a uniform baggage, all similarly plaid, their pockets and purses bulging in rectangular shapes where their passports sat, snug against their legs and their cellulars. He smiled at them the tourists pleasantly while he passed through border checks quick as Angel Bob followed Arthur through Piccadilly - the Welshman, citizen of the UK and born in St. David's hospital in Cardiff (the same one that bore his name), passed before the Texan tourists bickering about their long flight, even though Dewi sat comfortably in an economy seat with a blindfold hugging his eyelids.
He wished he had a paper to read, and settled with reading the front article UN Members Decry Gaza Boat Deaths until the morning light subsided and made way for the artificial, mute darkness of the tunnels. Faces blurred, waiting to board the train Dewi rode as he gathered his baggage and stepped off of the train and onto the platform. The voice behind him kindly reminded Dewi to Mind the Gap please as he vanished into the intermingling crowds with a rolling suitcase at his heels - not plaid, but dark blue, and bearing only a few days' clothes unlike the Texan tourists a few platforms back.
A quick transfer through flights of staircases, repeated adverts for swimwear and the World Cup, a final and more grueling staircase, and he came eye-to-eye with a sky of monochrome white - the default for London. American tourists to his right caught the attention of a guard to ask directions to Buckingham. A man to his left breathed out a cloud of smoke and moved toward the parallel street. Dewi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scanned the unfamiliar faces until a certain pair of furrowed eyebrows caught his attention.
With all of the noise, he had no choice but to approach his two-inch dwarfed half-brother with a ginger smile because, after almost ten hours of traveling to airports and flying red-eye flights and riding the Underground, it was nice to see a familiar face. "I believed for the slightest second there that you'd forget I was coming."