Let's Start at the Very Beginning (After a Bunch of Mushy Crap about How Much I Love My Boyfriend)
London hotel room
Yesterday afternoon, my boss welcomed me back from my trip and then asked half-jokingly what he could give me to make me feel more at home in the states and not miss England too much. I thought about it for a second before I said "my boyfriend," which is (a) probably not the kind of answer he was looking for and (b) also kind of obnoxious although in a sweet kind of way (or sweet in an obnoxious kind of way?). But obnoxious and sweet and true.
Staircase in the Tower complex (featuring my sternum--ick)
Two weeks with Simon and it really was strange to go off to work in separate buildings yesterday morning. Not once during the vacation did I get fed up with him and run screaming into the countryside for a little space among the sheep, and in fact, there were times when I actually saw too little of him, what with his duties as Maid of Honor keeping him busy ferrying out-of-towners to and fro and making sure the bride had her whiskey when she needed it.
After a bottle of wine at the Italian restaurant in the hotel next door, since we boycotted the crappy hotel we stayed in
My boss, upon hearing my response, stated the obvious, which is that it's a testament to our relationship that after all the hustle and craziness and near constant exposure to both the good and the not-so-much of each other, I still miss Simon when he goes away. The guy deserves something big and shiny for putting up with me since I am not always a bastion of maturity and understanding, and I feel like I need to send a fruit basket to I don't know whom for allowing me the opportunity to spend half a month with a guy who was nothing less than a prince to not just me but everyone else too (excepting one small incident which was soon remedied with a long walk through the willows lining the Avon River and some fish and super-vinegared chips for dinner). True to form, Simon turned out to be the excellent travelling companion I suspected him to be, and we have many more happy travels abroad in our future.
Taking a soak before heading out to dinner with Londoner friends B and B
***
Day One (The Loooong One)
--Downtown Berkeley, stopping for a snack on the way to the airport
--"Sandwhich," because I can't turn it off
--On BART, still working
--Waiting at the transfer station
--At the gate, me looking severely unlike myself what with the bangs and the huge hat (which I wore for exactly ten seconds at the wedding), and the weird Hillary Duff mouth-full-of-veneers smile. T-minus thirty minutes and counting before security confiscates my cherry chapstick and I commence a slow and whiny death from lip dehydration.
--Simon with the British Airways glass I proudly stole and then accidentally left at his sister's house.
--The chickenish meal I ate and then expelled with one swift contraction of my intestines before the flight attendant even had a chance to take the trays away. I hate food.
--Katie Holmes.
--Luggage carts! As far as the eye can see! And free!
--Oh my lord, we brought too much stuff...(Most of this is ours, but a few pieces belong to Simon's mom and one of the groom's friends, who flew in as a surprise. Still, that's a lot of damn luggage.)
Bonus slideshow: The Flight
Ten gold stars if one of the maps shows your city.
Aside from the raging and sadly not unfamiliar gastrointestinal issues, the journey from Simon's place to my place to BART to the airport to Heathrow was pleasantly uneventful. They confiscated my chapstick (which I should have put in a pocket or a body cavity because the one thing they didn't do was frisk us upon a table with stirrups), and my hands were shriveling into nothingness from lack of lotion, and the bitchy bitch who was on the window seat in our row wouldn't open the shade on takeoff when we asked her nicely. I watched a couple of movies, realized that yes, it is still impossible to read when drugged with a scopolamine patch, and slept exactly thirty-two minutes, after which my eyes were two raisins in their sockets, dry and purple and rough around the edges, ergo I died again because the death by dry lips and death by dry hands were apparently not enough, you fucking gel terrorists. (I also got chicken pox three years in a row when I was little, so why shouldn't I have multiple deaths?)
But it was all worth it, of course. For after an hour trek to SFO, three hours in various security lines, nine hours on the plane (no snakes), an hour at the rental car office, and an hour on the highway to Oxford, we finally turned off the paved road (oh yes!) onto this:
Which led us to this:
Which meant we could at last throw down our bags, put up our feet, pour out our first of 8,000 cups of tea, and take in our new home-away-from-home, the cottage on the farm.
Hooray! Day one was just like this! Add to it, however: "Forcing ourselves to stay awake as long as possible to avoid jetlag."
I hate that part.
-Simon.
too sweet and cute.. love it..
After my boyfriend and I spent nearly every moment of four weeks together in India last May we still felt the need to meet for lunch the first day back to work.
He’s my husband now. No pressure, I’m just saying…
Ps: I’m glad you’re back.
Denver was totally on one of those maps.
Hooray for good traveling companions!
(My first day back at work after being not separated from Hulk for 3 weeks on our trip to China was more than a little surreal; I know what you mean.)
Yay! I never get sick of my husband either. We've spent a year stranded in a weird sort of purgatory where we know no one else, and yet: I still want to hang out with him. It's magic!
I'm happy you have that. And also veryvery happy you're back. You look adorable in every blasted photo, as does Simon.
1. i think you should visit me when i am in france for you next abroad travels.
2. it is not fair to give gold stars for city features on maps since lexington will not ever be featured on one of those maps.
3. nice photo. esp the one with simon in the tub. scandalous.
As expected, the photos are swell.
a) I missed you and
b) you made me want to travel. Badly.
c) I love the twisty twirly stairwells. I miss them even though the one I remember most belonged to an acrid peice of crap hostel in Edinburgh.
Welcome home!
Great shots, per usual. And I spend 24/7 with my hubby and miss him when we're apart for any amount of time. It's a good thing :)
Sounds fab! Also, you are **seriously** lucky that you and Simon got along so well after two weeks together...after our two weeks with his family, we crashed and burned. (Boy, that sounds bitter...it really wasn't meant to)
Whee! 10 gold stars for me, one of the maps shows Calgary!
I would not use chapstick after it was in my body cavity. Or yours.
JustJENN,
You don't know what you're missing. Heh heh heh.
-Simon.