2016-08-04

This train says “Gatwick Express”

Gatwick is a place in England.

I went to England.

Some hours after I got to England, Isabelle got to England.  We ate instant ramen.

The following day, we eat eggs and look at things.

We look at this MG dealership.

We look at this gin.

We look at this WiFi

We look at this park.

We look at this park.

We look at great tits.

We look at great squirrels.

We look at this gate.

We look at Chinatown.

We look at the 24-hour massage… person… outside of our hotel.

The Book of Mormon!?

Isabelle says: “I <3 MORMON.”

Isabelle says: “Can someone get me a ticket?!”

Yes.

We sit at the front and have the greatest of times.  I also <3 mormon.

Then we have a very British dinner.

We have some delightfully still water.

We look at another MG.

We go to a drag queen DJ club.

We do not try the legal cocaine substitute.  Which is just snuff.  And gross.

But we do try cardamom gin + tonic and pomegranate basil gin + tonic.

Then it is the next day and we have freaking dim sum.

And we look at Big Ben.  Together, this time.

Then we go to the lake.

There are ducks in the lake.

There are swans in the lake.

Isabelle likes ducks and swans.

There’s a heron at the lake.

And some of these ducks.

And some of these ducks.

And some of these ducks.

And another heron.

And these blurry pelicans.

Which we neither feed nor touch.

There is another heron on the roof of a thing.

See?  Heron.

And one of these ducks.

Then we find a fake building, which makes us question the authenticity of London.

Then we find a pub, and do not question the authenticity of the beer.

A man without a hand suggests we use the crossing.

We see a squirrel in the airport.

I believe London was nice.

But we must leave London.  Flower shows me the dangerous tracks.

And pretends like she didn’t miss me.