2016-08-04

This train says “Gatwick Express”

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Gatwick is a place in England.

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I went to England.

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

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

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We look at this MG dealership.

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We look at this gin.

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We look at this WiFi

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We look at this park.

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We look at this park.

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We look at great tits.

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We look at great squirrels.

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We look at this gate.

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We look at Chinatown.

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

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The Book of Mormon!?

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Isabelle says: “I <3 MORMON.”

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

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Yes.

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

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Then we have a very British dinner.

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We have some delightfully still water.

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We look at another MG.

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We go to a drag queen DJ club.

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

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

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

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

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Then we go to the lake.

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There are ducks in the lake.

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There are swans in the lake.

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Isabelle likes ducks and swans.

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There’s a heron at the lake.

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And some of these ducks.

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And some of these ducks.

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And some of these ducks.

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And another heron.

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And these blurry pelicans.

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Which we neither feed nor touch.

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There is another heron on the roof of a thing.

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See?  Heron.

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And one of these ducks.

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

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

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A man without a hand suggests we use the crossing.

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We see a squirrel in the airport.

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I believe London was nice.

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

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And pretends like she didn’t miss me.

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