The only way I will be able to gather my thoughts is if I try to go in order. Nine fourty-five London time we touched down at Heathrow. That was Wednesday morning. Our plane departed Detroit at 10pm on Tuesday. It still felt like Tuesday. I slept a very broken one and a half hour on the plane. Partially due to excitement. But also because I had been getting so much sleep at home in the days prior. Summer sleep hours. A beautiful thing. There was a very loud drunk lady in the seat directly behind me [fantastic]. Thankfully, she went “night-night” [yes, her words] pretty much the moment we took off and stayed asleep [passed out] until about half an hour before touchdown. Score.
How did I busy myself on the plane? Lord, only knows without in-flight wifi. With in interwebz in tow, six and a half hours is nothing. I could have really made some decent headway with Torchwood. Still, I managed to make the time pass without even cracking open the one book I brought along. I ate my plane food. I chatted with my neighbor; she was a professor at some university in Michigan and had been a visiting faculty at Queen Mary—small world = helpful world. Now I know to go to Whitechapel to a cheap Bangladeshi market to get a quilt for my bed. And apparently I also must try Masala Zone. Super excited for the prominence of Indian food here. There was a disappointingly severe lacking in Los Angeles.