So I’m back in London! Good old smelly, crowded London. I got my spouse visa on Wednesday (I’m starting to run out of room in my passport) and after running around and squealing for a while, I went online and miraculously managed to find a ticket to Gatwick, leaving the next day, for five hundred dollars. This seemed a mite too good to be true, and I arrived at the airport on Thursday fully prepared to be told that I’d been scammed. Flight TXC61L to Gatwick did in fact exist, which was encouraging, but when I got to the front of the check-in queue the girl behind the counter looked at my passport and cheerfully informed me that I wasn’t in the system. I knew it, I thought. “Uh, I just bought the ticket yesterday,” I said. “Can I still get on the plane?”
“Oh yes!” she said. “We’ll just put you in the system now.” And that was it. She didn’t even look at my purchase confirmation. I think from now on I’m going to start hanging around in check-in queues to see if I can get on flights for free.
As if all this hadn’t been fortuitous enough, I ended up next to an empty seat. A mind-bogglingly cheap ticket…leaving the next day…and ample legroom to boot? It seemed inevitable that the plane would crash. Or perhaps I’ve just heard that fucking Alanis Morrissette song too many times. Anyway we didn’t crash (I thought I’d clear that up quickly in case the tension was getting to you), I didn’t lose my luggage, and I got through Customs with no hassle at all. And then SiC was adorable and surprised me at the airport even though we’d arranged to meet at Victoria Station. And then we went to the pub and all our friends were adorable and hugged me a lot and bought me beer a lot and told me I’d lost a lot of weight. (What is it, Christmas over here?)
So that’s that! I’m home. In five days we’re moving out of the lair of Crazy Frog and into our lovely new two-bedroom, two-bathroom flat on the high road (two bathrooms! Two motherfucking bathrooms! I will have my very own bathroom in which to potter and splash about as I please! I haven’t had a bathroom to myself since…um, ever). I’m starting to get over my jet lag and am looking into changing my surname (mostly because Smith is boring and I want the opportunity to create a cool new signature that doesn’t look like a plate of spaghetti as depicted by a blind epileptic). After all the Sturm und Drang of the last two years I feel weirdly normal and settled and happy. This may be the end of my blogging career.