Jet Lag
The unholy combination of a five hour time change and a nine hour plane flight does something unique to the equilibrium of a normally anchored human being. I speak empirically, for having arrived home yesterday from a perfectly divine trip to London, I now find that my body clock has gone completely haywire. I have no idea what day it is. I neither know, nor particularly care, what time it is. I find myself eating clementines and cheese at three in the morning and nodding off like a pensioner at eight at night.
Edward is beside himself with joy at my return and flatly refuses to leave my side. He’s under my chair when I’m seated, across my feet when I’m in bed. I even have to step over him getting out of the bathtub. Although I was able to talk to him every evening whilst I was away - due to the strange and wonderful powers of Skype - he obviously prefers my physical presence and is determined to make me aware of that fact during every hour of the day.
Thank you all so much for your tantalizing suggestions on what to see and do in London. They were much appreciated. I will share my adventures here soon, and I’m so looking forward to catching up as best I can with all my favourite blogs.
London is a magic, magnificent city, but there’s nothing quite like the welcome home of a big, white, lonesome dog!
