London derriere

I really used to love flying, and I still do enjoy the moment when the plane surges magically into the air in defiance of logic and gravity, but I think I'm getting too old for these larks. The primary experience now is discomfort: twitchy legs, sore butt, the frustration of being unable to stretch my legs, the complete inability to do any more than fitfully doze in the upright position. And the person sitting next to you is inevitably an octopus made of elbows, and lacks all sense of personal space. Also, they can apparently sleep in odd, contorted, unrelaxed positions, and will do so, snoring loudly, just to underline your own lack of slumber as the small hours of the morning tick by. Phooey. I just had a three-hour nap, but I'm a little frayed.

On the upside, I'm in London! starmadeshadow rescued me from the airport, and Scroob is providing me a haven filled with vital elements such as Earl Grey, beds, baths, internet and an Elfbaby. Tonight I see bumpycat and rumint, tomorrow the other hordes. I am suddenly reminded that I got into this whole LJ lark in the first place mostly because of the huge bunch of Cape Towners in exile here, and who I don't see nearly often enough. Maybe all the travel horrors are worth it.

It's also, I have to say, incredibly fun to be typing this on my very own mini-computer, leeching off Scroob's limitless high-speed bandwidth with the wide-eyed awe of a colonial gawper unaccustomed to all this high tech. Winona's keyboard is small and has its little idiosyncracies, but I think we're getting acquainted very nicely. Now all I need to do is find a three-pin SA-to-UK adaptor, and we're in business.

Hooray! London!