Puddle Jumpin'

Well, it's just about over. Tomorrow afternoon, I fly back to the good old U.S. of A. Instead of chips, I will now have to settle for fries, and football will once again mean that devolved game of rugby with all the pads. But, it will be good to be home. The trip has been a bit more eventful than I thought, what with the week or so of eating nothing but fruit and bread while my bank took its sweet-ass time to send me a new debit card and all that.

Ooh. I just realized. When I get home, I finally get to expend some real energy on bitching like a lame horse about my bank before I leave it and go to another one. Fun. There's a credit union in town, and if I'm going to get fleeced by someone, they might as well be local, right?

Anyway, bye bye Britain. It's been a blast. Call me.

In the airport

... on the way to London. Finally, after what seems like a year of waiting, I'm on my way to England and Scotland for a half-working vacation that I sorely need. I have already lost my phone and almost left my passport a handful of places, but who's counting? Next time I post, I will be in England, and writing furiously. As I've said, I want to come back with a vast array of at least starts for stories, if not a notebook full of poems and stories. The football work I'll be doing over there will be great, but its a means to an end also. Literary work is what I really want to get done over there. We'll see.